Sing Me to Sleep
by Butterfly Betty
Summary: She's lost her muse. He's missing inspiration. When Bella and Edward meet, will they be able to heal the tattered pieces of their hearts? Or will they forever be alone? #angstalert
1. Chapter 1

"Bella, table six is up," yelled my boss, Embry Call, from the kitchen.

"I'm coming," I yelled back. I shook my head and looked back to the people sitting in the booth in front of me. "Sorry about that. What can I get you today?"

"Do you have organic food here?" the girl asked. She was tall, thin, and needed to gain at least twenty pounds be at a healthy weight. Her impeccably styled hair and flawless make-up plastered made her look like a Barbie, perfect in every way.

"No," I scoffed, stifling the urge to roll my eyes. "This here's a grease joint. If you want healthy food, I would suggest you go look elsewhere, honey."

"Okay," she said, slowly.

Barbie shared a look with the Ken doll who was sitting across from her. Just like her, he had the perfectly styled blond hair, clear blue eyes, and fake smile. He wore an ironed red polo shirt, khaki shorts, and white tennis shoes that matched Barbie's red and white sundress. He shrugged his shoulders, clearing unwilling to make the decision for himself and leaving it to Barbie to decide.

"Bella!" Embry yelled again.

And once again, I waved him off and looked from Ken over to Barbie. "Well, what's it going to be?"

"I think we'll go someplace else." Barbie slid out of the booth, throwing me her fakest smile yet.

"Probably a good idea," I smarted off.

I shoved my order pad back into the apron of my blue and white checkered uniform and headed back around the corner. The door slammed shut as Ken and Barbie left. Embry was standing in the kitchen, scowling at me. Like it was my fault everything he served in his little diner was sure to clog the arteries and send a person into full cardiac arrest.

"Took you long enough, Bella," he spat, flipping a pancake.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, pulling the plates off the shelf and balancing them on my arm. "Get my order for table ten up or I'm sending the old man back here to bitch your ass out."

"Go ahead," he laughed as I walked away. "I ain't scared of that old man."

Embry Call was all talk and very little action. If the old man at table ten really did come back there to yell at him, he'd piss his pants and push him off onto me. That was why Embry worked in the kitchen and I worked in the front. The man had zero people skills at all.

"Here we go," I said, depositing the four plates onto table six. "Can I get you guys anything else?"

"No, I think we are good." Sam Uley, one of my regulars, looked around at their plates and smiled. "Thanks, B."

"Let me know," I said, grinning at him, his wife Emily and their two girls, Cassie and Bridget.

Sam worked security over at one of the casinos. I forget which one. Emily almost always brought the girls in to meet him for breakfast before they had to go to school. Of course, school was out for the summer so they didn't have to rush the way they normally would. Their girls were carbon-copies of their mother, from her long, silky jet black hair to her striking black eyes. Sam and Emily had come to Las Vegas to elope, and never left. Like so many people in the city seemed to.

Walking back around the counter, I picked up the order for table number ten. I grabbed the pot of coffee on my way over to his table and slid his plate in front of him. The old man was slouched over the table, wearing a dark suit that was at least two decades old and smelled of mothballs. His dark brown hair was matted down to his head, several streaks of silver mixed in, but the rest of him was very clean, something I could tell he took great pride in.

"It's about time," he groused, turning the plate full of eggs, bacon, and hash browns around in a full circle. It was a crazy tradition that he'd done every morning of the last two years that I have been waiting on him.

"Embry was being extra slow today," I told him, ignoring his mean demeanor. I was used it. "You should go yell at him."

"Just pour me some more damn coffee," he grumbled, shoving his half empty cup toward me.

"I was going to," I said, coolly. I filled up his cup and moved it back to where he always wanted it. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, just let me eat," he muttered.

Inwardly, I sighed and headed back behind the counter. The old man picked up his fork and closed his eyes, saying a short blessing before shoveling the food into his mouth. Every morning was the same. He walked in around ten in the morning, sat at the same table, and either stared out the window or read the paper while he waited for his food. By now, I knew better now than to even ask what he wanted. I just turned in the order of two eggs, two pieces of bacon, and an order of hash browns before I took him his cup of black coffee. He'd grunt, but never said thank you. The old man would eat his food, push his plate away, toss twenty dollars on the table, and leave. His order only cost him a little over five bucks so I kept the rest as a tip. That was just the way the old man did things.

The rest of my shift went by in much of the same way. The old man left his money sitting on the table, Sam and Emily left with the girls giggling in front of them, and I went back to waiting on mindless morons who'd drunk too much the night before and lost all, but the few bucks in their pockets. Instead of using it to find a way back home, they chose to use in this shit hole.

Once the clock struck five, I clocked out and headed back to my apartment. My feet were killing me from spending the last twelve hours busting tables and all I wanted to do was put them up and get lost in my painting. I stumbled into my danky apartment and shut the door behind me. The small one bedroom apartment was nothing more than shoebox, but it was mine.

I changed out of my work uniform, hanging it on my wire hanger, and placing it on the small nail on the back of my bedroom door. Tomorrow would be another day in the salt mines and I would once again don the outfit and go back to the diner. For now, however, I slipped on a ratty T-shirt and made my back into my living room, settling on the stool that sat in front of my easel. While staring at the blank canvas, I prayed for inspiration to hit, however it never did.

My muse was gone.

**EPOV**

"Another round for the VIP's," Alice Brandon hollered, laying her tray on the bar.

I sighed and started pouring shots of tequila into ten shot glasses. Placing them on her tray, I cocked an eyebrow at her. "How many is this for them?"

"Six, seven, eight," she said, waving her hand in the air. "I don't fucking know and I don't fucking care."

I laughed as I placed the last glass on her tray. Alice muttered another series of four letter words under her breath as she lifted her tray and sashayed her way through the crowd, putting more sway in her hips than was needed. Alice Brandon was a tiny thing, barely standing five foot two and weighted about a hundred pounds, but you did not want to get on her bad side. She had a quick temper, a quick right hook, and sharp nails that she wasn't afraid to use.

I watched her until she disappeared into the VIP room of the bar she and I worked in together. Murphy's Law was considered one of the best places to come and get a cheap drink, live it up for a while, or just get your ass so drunk that you won't remember what you did the night before.

If only it was so easy.

My attention was pulled from the bachelor's party that Alice was currently serving when someone on the other end of the bar yelled for another beer. Sighing to myself, I pulled the beer out of the ice and took it to him, taking his five bucks and ignoring his mutter about how expensive they were. If you want cheap beer, go down the street to one of the joints that water theirs down. The sole purpose here was to get assholes drunk. Period.

"I swear to God, if one more drunk man grabs my ass," Alice muttered, slamming her tray back down onto my bar. "I'm going to bury my nails in some fucker's eye."

"Do I need to go back and have a conversation?" I asked, seriously.

"No, I can handle them," she said, waving me off. "I just don't understand why, when a man is getting married, they would get shit-faced drunk and palm the ass of their waitress the night before. Don't they have any kind of conscience?"

"Nope," Emmett McCarty snickered, coming over and tapping his nails on the bar. "Of course, you do have ass, Ally-Cat."

"Fuck off, meathead." Alice laughed, and smacked him in the back of the head. She looked over at me. "Give me another round for the assholes."

"Last round, shorty," I told her, pouring the drinks.

"I know, I know," she said, loading them onto her tray.

Emmett waited until Alice, left, watching her shake her ass, before he turned to me. "Edward, man, can you cover the rest of my shift? There's a blond over at Cassidy's and she's fucking hot. She said she'd go out with me tonight, if you get my drift"

I rolled my eyes.

"Fine but you owe me, Em," I said, pointing at him. "I will collect."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he yelled, already halfway to the door.

"You're a sucker, Edward," Alice laughed, coming back to the bar.

I snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."

By the time we locked the doors for the night, Alice and I had served hundreds of drinks and called three taxis to come pick up the drunks. She changed out of her tighter-than-skin jeans she'd been wearing into a shorter-than-should-be-legal black, leather skirt and headed out, talking about some blackjack dealer at one of the casinos. I forget which one.

I re-stocked the bar before I headed out the back to where my motorcycle sat, hidden in the shadows. Pulling on my helmet, I headed down the strip toward my apartment. I walked up to the trashy one-bedroom apartment I rented for way too much money and locked all three locks behind me. Tossing my keys into my helmet and shuffling into the bedroom, I stripped off the clothes I'd been wearing and pulled on a pair of flannel pants.

I made my way into the living room and settled down in front of the second hand piano I bought at an estate sale for two hundred bucks. Looking down at the ivory and black keys, I waited for inspiration to hit me. But as usual, all I could do was stare.

My inspiration was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**BPOV**

"Bella," the most annoying voice I had ever heard sang. "Bella, get your lazy ass up, girl!"

"Fuck off," I muttered, rolling over on my piece-of-shit couch.

"Get up, get up, get up, get up," Carlisle Cullen chanted, sitting on me and bouncing up and down. "GET UP!"

"Get the fuck off of me." I laughed and pushed him onto his ass. I scrambled off the couch, knowing that he wouldn't stop until I was up. "You're so annoying."

"And you are a lazy bitch," he quipped, flopping down where I had just been laying. "You're going to be late for your shift again."

"Shit," I spat, rushing into my bedroom and stripping of the T-shirt I had been wearing. "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"I just got off," he said from my couch.

"Long night?" I asked, walking back into the living room as I buttoned up my uniform.

"Very." Carlisle sat up, stretching out his muscles. "But when are they not here in Vegas?"

"No shit."

I stepped up in front of the wall mirror that hung on the back of my apartment door, pulling my long, mahogany hair into a ponytail. Carlisle stood up off the couch, moved behind me, and slipped his arms around my waist, leaning his chin on my shoulder. I brought my hand up, stroking his cheek. He was a devastatingly, good looking man with honey blond hair and bright blue eyes. Only today, he had dark, purple bags hanging under them.

"You look tired," I murmured. "When was the last time you slept?"

"A couple of days ago." He sighed, closing his eyes. "Can't shut work off, you know?"

"You can't let them get to you," I said, quietly.

Carlisle smiled as he turned and pressed his lips to the side of my neck.

"I know," he whispered. "You had better get going. I'll see you later."

Turning in his arms, I leaned up on my toes and pressed my lips to his cheek. "Try to sleep. For me."

"I'll try," he promised.

Carlisle went down to his own apartment while I headed down the hallway to the stairs. He and I had moved into the building around the same time and became quick friends — only friends. One drunken night had proven that we were only meant to be friends. We had just drunk down our sixth or seventh shot of tequila when Carlisle leaned over, crushing his lips down onto mine. It felt like kissing my brother, if I had a brother. We agreed to never speak of that night again.

Carlisle worked at a small medical clinic, mostly treating the homeless and the people who came in begging for him to work a miracle. He didn't get paid for his work, but whenever I pressed him about why he stayed, he got a dark look in his eye and said that he deserved nothing more. I knew him well enough to let it go and not push for more. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of us; I didn't ask him about his past and he didn't ask me about mine. Carlisle was what I liked to call an old soul, helping the helpless and all that bullshit.

"It's about time you got here," Embry snarled as I walked into the diner.

I ignored him and made my way to the back, hanging up my messenger bag. Tying my apron around my waist, I grabbed my order pad and clocked in. Picking up the pot of coffee, I started my rounds, making sure that everyone had a full cup and that they had everything that they needed. When I'd poured out the last drop, I walked back around the counter and started a fresh pot.

The morning rush passed quickly and I got everyone served, ignoring the smart-ass comments coming from Embry about me being late and him having to do my job for me. He liked to threaten to fire me, but he never did and he never would. He couldn't run this place without me. It was a simple fact that we both knew.

"Bella, I need you to cover the night shift tonight," Embry said, coming up to the front. I slammed my order pad on the counter and glared at him. "Don't look at me like that. Jessica just called and said she had enough and that she was going back to Iowa or Kentucky, whatever hole in the hell she crawled up out of. I need you to cover the night shift until I can find someone."

"Fine, but you had better not jip me on my check," I snapped as the door opened and the old man came in.

I picked up my order pad and wrote out the old man's order, shoving it into Embry's hand. He ignored me as he walked into the back to start his order. I picked up a coffee cup and the fresh pot of coffee and walked over to his table, filling it to the brim and sliding it front of him. The old man pretended I wasn't standing there as he reached over, grabbing the sugar and dumping an unhealthy amount into the cup.

"Hasn't anyone told you that sugar is bad for you?" I asked, leaning against the booth, opposite of him.

"Hasn't anyone told you to mind your damn business?" he groused.

I shook my head and pushed off the booth.

"More than once," I said. "Didn't mean I listened."

"Apparently," he muttered.

Knowing that was all I was going to get out of the old man, I turned and headed back over to my other customers, refilling their coffee and clearing away empty plates. Once the old man's order was ready, I delivered it to the table and watched as he went through his crazy routine. As he did every day, he left his twenty dollar bill on the table and left without a word to anyone.

The day wore on and Embry spent most of it on the phone trying to talk one of his bimbo, slut friends into coming to work for him. They all knew he was a prick and told him no. By the middle of the afternoon, he had stormed out of the diner, muttering something about needing a drink. I didn't see him for the rest of the day.

I was in the middle of my second shift when the door opened and a big, brawny guy came in, holding a little tiny woman on his back. They were both laughing about some kind of private joke. I groaned thinking that they were drunk off their asses as I made my way over and stood at the end of the booth they had slid into.

The big guy — curly brown hair and puppy dog brown eyes — flashed me his dimple-filled smile, and gave me the once over. I rolled my eyes; so fucking typical.

"I'm going to tell you right now, the grill is closed," I said, dryly. "I've got coffee, tea, soda, and water. There's pie, and that's about it."

"Oh, what kind of pie?" The woman asked, her eyes flying wide. She was tiny compared to Dimples. Her long jet back hair had been accented with wild blue streaks throughout; a look only she could pull off. Her eyes were dark, soulful, and reminded me of the paintings I'd found in a book in the library when I was a little girl — back when things weren't hard, when life hadn't sucked.

Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts out of my head.

"Apple, cherry, and peach," I replied.

"I'll take some cherry pie," she said, dreamily. "Can I have that a la mode?"

"Sure thing." I sighed and looked back at Dimples. "And for you?"

"Which one would you suggest, sweetheart?" he smirked, winking at me. "Apple or Peach?"

"Apple," I droned, ignoring his wink. "The peach has been in there for a week."

"Fuck, guys, did you order without me?"

At the sound of the silky voice, I turned toward the door. The man coming barreling his way inside stopped and stared, his deep green eyes penetrating straight to my soul. Tall thin, he was beyond gorgeous, he was sexy as fuck. His auburn hair called for me to run my fingers through it, begging me and he had incredible lips — kissable, suckable lips. He was wearing a pair of dark, tight-fitting jeans that showcased his fit, toned body, a black T-shirt that clung to him, and a black leather motorcycle jacket. He brought his hand up, running it through his hair, and shifting his eyes away from mine. I took a deep breath as I turned and looked back at Dimples.

"So what's it going to be?" I asked, softly.

"I think I'll take your sage advice and take the apple," he laughed. "A la mode, of course."

"Sure, no problem," I murmured. Biting my lip, I turned and looked at Green Eyes. He was still just standing there, watching me, staring at me. His fingers tapped against the side of his leg. "And for you?"

"Um," Green eyes said, clearing his throat. He turned and looked back at the door. "I've gotta . . . go."

Trailing off, he turned and walked out of the diner.

"That dirty motherfucker," Cherry Pie muttered. "It was his turn to buy!"

"I'll buy this time," Dimples said, patting Cherry Pie on the top of her head. "We'll just make sure he pays for this later." Dimples looked back up at me. "We'll take two cups of coffee, too, sweetheart."

"Do I look like your sweetheart, Dimples?" I snarled, shoving my order pad into my apron. Dimples' eyes grew wide as he shook his head. "Then don't call me that."

"Yes, ma'am," he snickered.

"She's feisty," Cherry Pie cackled.

I ignored them both as I went back to the other side of the counter and started getting their pie and ice cream. My hands were trembling, and I didn't understand why.

"Hey, girl, you got some music in here?" Cherry Pie asked, climbing out of the booth. She didn't wait for Dimples to stand up. No, she climbed over him, shoving her perky little ass in his face. "We need some tunes."

Without a word, I went over and flipped on the radio. The station was playing some hip-hop song that I'd never heard before, not that it meant anything. I rarely listened to music, choosing to allow the silence to wrap around me.

Cherry Pie squealed as she pulled Dimples out of the booth and started shaking her ass in front of him. He groaned, grabbing her hips and pulling her flush against him. Cherry Pie brought her hands up, grabbed his head, and wove her fingers into his dark curly hair.

"Damn, Emmett," she laughed, rubbing her body all over him. "You sure as fuck know how to move."

"You ain't too bad yourself." Dimples, or Emmett, moaned, sliding his arms around her waist. "Fuck, Ally-Cat, you're making me so fucking hard."

"Ha, you couldn't handle me, sugar." Ally-cat smirked and pushed him off of her. Looking over, she caught me staring, causing me to blush and turn back to the pie. "Oh, sorry, honey. Guess we got a little carried away."

"It's fine," I muttered, carrying their pie and coffee over to them. "Most entertainment I've had in here all night."

"Seems kind of dead," she observed, sliding into the booth. "Is it always like this?"

"Only in the middle of the night when all the drunks are off marrying some bimbo or losing all their money at the casinos," I jibed. Emmett slid into the booth next her, laying his arm on the back. Ally-Cat leaned into his embrace. "Let me know if I can get you anything else."

"Will do, sweetheart," laughed Emmett.

I glared at him.

"It's not like I know your name," he exclaimed, smirking.

"It's Bella," I said, dryly. "Don't call me sweetheart again."

"Yes, Bella," he replied, sounding like a good little boy. "Since you told us your name, I'll tell you ours, because I'm sure you're dying to know me. I'm Emmett and this little vixen is Alice, or Ally Cat."

"Just Alice." She sighed and elbowed him.

Emmett laughed as he leaned over toward me.

"She's a real wild cat in the sack," he whispered. "Clawing at my back, begging for me to fuck her harder."

Alice reached up and popped him on the back of the head. "Asshole, you will never find out how I am in bed. I've seen the skanks that you've gone home with, and don't really feel like getting any diseases."

"Ally-Cat!" Emmett gasped, trying to look ashamed.

I left them alone and moved back over to the counter, enjoying my own piece of apple pie. Alice and Emmett finished their pie and coffee, leaving me a generous tip. They certainly were two of the most interesting people I've had in here all night, or all month for that matter.

Embry came in just after five in the morning, relieving me for the day shift, but informed me that he would need me to cover the night shift again. I only agreed because I needed the money, and he knew better than to fuck around with me. Gathering my stuff, I headed back to my apartment building. I wasn't in the mood to be alone so instead of stopping at my place, I headed down to Carlisle's, letting myself in with the key he gave me. He was lying in his bed, one arm covering his eyes while the other was draped across his bare abdomen. I stripped off my uniform and pulled on one of his shirts before climbing in under his covers, snuggling up to him. He brought his arm down, wrapping it around me.

"You stink," he muttered. "Busy night?"

"No," I murmured. "Did you sleep today?"

"No." Carlisle leaned over and kissed the top of my head. "You really stink."

"Shut the fuck up." I laughed, slipping my arm around his waist.

He laughed holding me tighter. "Night, Bella."

"Night, Car," I said, quietly.

Snuggling as close to him as I could, I drifted off to sleep, dreaming about an intense pair of green eyes.

**Thank you for all the reviews.**


	3. Chapter 3

**EPOV**

Have you ever had one of those moments where suddenly everything became clear? You know, where the universe becomes all aligned and everything was perfect?

This was not one of those moments — at all.

No, this was one of those moments were suddenly nothing made sense. The woman — no, the angel — standing at the end of the booth where Alice and Emmett sat had turned my entire world around and all she had done was look at me.

"And for you?" she asked.

I needed to speak, but I couldn't seem to find the words. The woman in front of me was the most exquisite woman I had ever seen: long, luscious mahogany hair; dark, sensual chocolate-brown eyes; and pink, sultry lips that begged for me to kiss them, suck on them, lick them, to worship them.

"Um," I gasped, clearing my throat and trying to regain some sense of normalcy. Looking back at the door, I muttered, "I've gotta . . . go."

Without looking back at her, or Emmett and Alice, I took off out the door. Climbing back on my bike, I took off, going too fast but needing to get away. She was intoxicating and I had only stood in the same room with her. How could anyone have that kind of an effect on me? Much less a woman I had just met?

I parked my bike outside my building and ran up to my apartment, locking the door behind me. Dropping my keys and helmet on the floor, I crossed over to the piano and sat down. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I placed my fingers on the keys and began playing, all while a pair of chocolate eyes haunted

—SMTS —

By the time I made it to the bar for my shift, I was exhausted. I had spent the entire day at my piano: playing, writing, breathing the music flowing through my fingers. For the first time in months — maybe even a year — I could feel the melody inside of me, begging to be released. I hadn't felt this in so long, and it both scared and thrilled me. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew my angel had everything to do with it.

"Dude, what the fuck was that shit last night?" Alice screeched, jumping on me the minute I walked the back door of the bar — literally jumping on my back and beating the shit out of me.

"Fuck, Alice, that's my ear," I muttered, easily pulling her off of me.

She narrowed her eyes at me, grabbing my arms and digging her claws into me.

"Shit! Fucking let go," I goddamned cried, trying to pull my arm out of her grip.

"Oh, she's got you now, Edward," Emmett snickered, coming in front the front. "Serves your ass right, too. You owe me for pie and coffee."

"How many fucking times have I paid for all three of us?" I scoffed, trying to dislodge Alice's nails. "Goddamn it, Ally-Cat, let go!"

"You just left," she jibed, finally pulling her nails out from my arms.

"You fucking left marks," I muttered, rubbing the skin and trying not to cry like a pussy.

"You fucking left and acted like a goddamn motherfucking loser!" Alice brought her hand up, threatening to claw my ass again.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," I groused, moving out of her reach.

"Dude, what was with that?" Emmett folded his arms in front of him.

Shifting my eyes away, I shrugged my shoulders and clocked in for my shift. "I was tired."

"That's why you look like shit right now," Alice scoffed, popping me on the back of the head.

"Alice, stop hitting me," I bit out.

"You left me with that asshole," she laughed, gesturing to Emmett, who winked at her. "He was putting the moves on me all goddamned night."

"Oh, Ally-Cat, you know you liked it." He snickered, palming her ass. "You were shoving this fine ass in my face and junk all night, baby."

"Ugh, get off of me." Alice pushed him away, but had a huge smile on her face.

She and Emmett flirted relentlessly with each other, but we all know it would never happen between them. Emmett laughed and headed back into the front of the bar to get ready for his shift up at the door.

Alice turned back to me, shaking her head. "I don't know what the fuck really happened last night, E, but if you ever do that shit again, I'll fucking cut you and that's a promise."

Alice popped me on the back of the head again before heading back out to the bar, swaying her fucking ass like the bitch she was. But she was right. I had acted like a jerk last night and I was sure both she and Emmett would make sure I paid dearly for leaving them high and dry, even if I always paid in the past.

Murphy's Law was slammed tonight, more than usual, at least. Friday night and payday meant we had a mixture of our usual drunks and the assholes that were drinking away their hard-earned money. The ones who cash their checks and instead of paying their rent or buying groceries, they'd come in and spend a few hundred bucks moaning and groaning about their piss-poor jobs, lousy marriages, pain-in-the-ass kids, and just how shitty our drinks were. What did I get to do while they bitched and whined? Call them cabs and make sure that none of them got behind the wheel of their cars.

Alice was working the VIP room again. Tonight's guest were out celebrating some kid turning twenty-one by getting him shitfaced drunk and trying to get him laid — probably for the first time. It wasn't the first time we'd dealt with this type of group, but these assholes made me uncomfortable. I didn't really want Alice back there with them, but it was her job. Emmett had his hands full between the front door and the rest of the drunks so I was trying to keep an extra close eye on the back room.

After taking the fifth round of shots back to them, she came up to me, looking pissed off.

"Edward, I need you," Alice snapped, gesturing to the VIP room.

That could only mean one thing: some motherfucker got a little too handy and needed to be taught a lesson. Motioning over to Ben — the other bartender — that I would be right back, I climbed over the bar and followed her into the room. Inside, I found six guys who were drunk, humping the couches, and yelling about Alice being a cock tease.

"There's the whore," the birthday boy sneered.

Alice rolled her eyes. This wasn't the first time she'd had a drunk call her a whore.

"That motherfucker grabbed my ass while his dick friend — the fuck-nut with the busted lip — groped my boobs," she explained, placing her hands on her hips. I had no doubt that the busted lip was her doing.

"Did not," the fucker holding the napkin up to his lip muttered.

I looked down at Alice. "I got it."

She understood and left. I turned back to the boys. They had better be glad Emmett wasn't the one brought back here. You don't mess with his Ally-Cat and expect to walk out without a limp.

"Let me make this as fucking clear as I possibly can. You do not touch her, look at her, think about her, or dream about putting your fucking dicks inside of her. She took it easy on you, but if you ever mess with her again, she will fuck you up. Then I will fuck you up. And just because I'm a bastard, I will get the big guy at the door to come fuck you up. Do we have an understanding?" I asked, looking around.

They all nodded their heads, clearly realizing that they had fucked up big time.

"Are you driving?" I asked.

They shook their heads.

"Limo," the asshat with the busted lip muttered.

"I suggest you take your sorry asses' home and sleep it off before you do something truly fucked up."

Leaving them sitting there, scared and probably having just pissed their pants, I headed back up to the bar, where Alice waited, tapping her nails rapidly. She looked up at me expectantly.

"I took care of it," I assured her.

"Did you kick their asses?" she asked, eagerly.

I laughed, but before I could reply, the boys from the VIP room came stumbling out. They took one look at me and Alice before bolting for the door, nearly pushing Emmett, which would have been bad — very bad. Emmett cocked his eyebrow as he came over to the bar.

"What the fuck was that about?" he asked, gesturing to stampede of scared, drunk boys.

"Usual," Alice said, shrugging her shoulders. She looked back at me. "So did you kick their asses or not?"

"Was there a need to kick their asses?" Emmett growled, turning back to the door. I could tell he was trying to decide if he could catch up to them or not. Again, nobody messes with his Ally-Cat.

Emmett and I had started working at the bar around the same time, nearly four years ago. Both new to Vegas, we quickly became friends. A year later, Alice showed up. She wasn't the same foul mouthed, bitchy, violent Alice that she was now. No, she was an angry, bitter, messed up Alice, who told us all to fuck off two dozen times a day when she started. Then one night after we closed, Emmett and I walked out of the back of the bar and found her kneeling against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably.

Without even thinking twice, Emmett picked her up. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, letting us take her back to his apartment. She fell asleep in his arms, whimpering and screaming every ten minutes. Emmett never let her go, holding her all night. Alice never told us what happened in the alley, or what her nightmares were about, but she didn't tell us to fuck off anymore, either. Alice didn't share anything about her life with us, or anyone. It's just the way it was.

"Not this time," I said, passing a couple of beers over to Ben. "A couple guys got a little too friendly. Alice busted a lip, and I gave them the usual shit."

"The 'I will fuck you up' speech?" Alice asked.

I nodded.

She laughed. "Thanks, E. That almost makes up for leaving us last night."

"Almost but it doesn't," Emmett added, pushing away from the bar and heading back to the front door.

—SMTS —

By the time I locked the bar up for the night, I was dragging. However, instead of driving back to my apartment, I found myself parked in front of the diner — her diner. From my seat on my bike, I could see my angel sitting behind the counter, bent over something. Why the hell had I come back here tonight?

Without thinking, I climbed off my bike, pulled my helmet off, and headed inside. The bells chimed as I pushed the door open, causing my angel to look up at me. Once again, I was lost in sea of chocolate brown. She stared at me, cheeks flushed pink. I let the door close behind me, but just stood there, staring at her.

"Hi." Her voice was calm, passionate, sensual, and sexy.

"Hi," I replied, dumbly. "Can I sit anywhere?"

"Anywhere you can find a seat," she said, smiling. "As you can tell, we're very busy."

"Yeah, practically overflowing." I laughed, looking around at the empty diner. Sitting down at the counter in front of her, I smiled. "I hear you have good pie."

"Um, it's okay," she murmured.

My angel reached up, pushing her hair behind her ear. I noticed that she had a smudge of orange paint just next to her ear. I reached out to wipe it away, but pulled my hand back. The urge to touch her was overwhelming. I just wasn't sure I'd be able to stop at just touching her face. My body craved hers, and I didn't even know her name.

"You have paint," I explained, gesturing to where she had it. "Just there by your ear."

"Oh, thanks," she muttered, rubbing the spot profusely, but it was still there. "I thought I got it all."

"It's orange," I mumbled, feeling like an idiot.

She nodded her head, but offered nothing more.

"Did you want some pie or . . . something?" she asked, biting on her bottom lip.

Fuck, if my cock wasn't already rock hard, that sent me over the edge.

"The kitchen is closed, but I could make you a burger or a sandwich or something. I mean, you know, if you want."

"No," I said, quickly — too quickly because my angel frowned. "Pie would be good, though. If you have any."

"A la mode?" she asked smiling.

"Please," I murmured. My angel nodded her head and stood up, grabbing the sketch pad in front of her. She moved over to the glass pie cabinet and pulled out two pies.

"Apple or cherry?" she asked, looking over at me.

I smiled. "Surprise me."

Blushing, she turned back to the pies, dishing us both a large piece of apple. She added two scoops of vanilla ice cream on top and set them down in front of me, pulling her stool up and sitting down.

"This looks good."

"They're okay," she said, taking a bite. Her tongue snaked out, licking all over the spoon. Averting my eyes, I picked up my spoon and took a bite.

"Oh, fuck me, that's good!" I moaned, all throaty and porn star like.

My angel burst out laughing, covering her mouth so she didn't spew her food all over me. I quickly swallowed, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. Her laughter increased as she reached over, grabbing a couple of napkins and placing one in front of me. Mentally slapping myself, I wiped my mouth and the back of my hand off, but this was good pie — like fucking good pie.

"Sorry," I muttered, feeling like a world class idiot.

She laughed again, but before she could say anything the door the diner opened again. We both looked over as a tall, thin blond guy wearing green scrubs came in. Turning back to my angel, I noticed she no longer had a smile on her face. Pushing her pie away, she moved from behind the counter and over to him.

"Car, what's wrong?" she asked. Car shook his head, taking her hands in his and bringing them up his lips.

"I couldn't save her," he murmured. "Never save her."

My angel looked over at me, frowning. A single word trickled from between her lips: "Sorry,"

"I should go," I mumbled, standing up.

My angel didn't say anything or even try to stop me as I pulled some money out of my back pocket and tossed it onto the counter. As I walked over to the door, I looked back at her. She had pulled him over to a booth and was sitting with his head on her shoulder. He got to feel her touch, the soft whispers of her breath as she comforted him, soothed him, and nurtured him.

Jealousy spiked through me.

Turning away, I walked out and climbed on my bike, heading back to my apartment. Slamming my apartment door shut behind me, I shuffled into my bedroom, falling on my bed. Toeing off my shoes, I covered my eyes with my arm and drifted off to sleep, where my angel haunted me, dancing to the melody that played in my head.

I was truly fucked.

**Thank you for all the reviews **


	4. Chapter 4

**BPOV**

Early the next afternoon, I woke up with Carlisle's arms wrapped tightly around me, his leg over mine, and his face buried in my hair. He had stayed at the diner with me until Embry came to start his shift. I understood his need to be close to me. When we came home, there was no question that he would sleep in my bed. Carlisle needed someone to hold him and tell him it was okay, someone who wouldn't press for details into what had happened to send him into a spiraling out of control. Not just last night, either, but in his past, as well.

Disentangling myself from his limbs, I left him asleep in my bed and quietly walked into the living room of my small apartment. I started a pot of coffee, and when it was ready, poured myself a cup in one of the two thick, brown cups I had bought from the diner. Carlisle always used the other one, so I left it on the counter, ready for when he woke up.

Padding my way back into the living room, I settled down on my stool, sipping on my coffee and staring at the painting I had started yesterday. Dark shadows, squiggly orange lines, deep red poured through the cracks on the wall. Hugging my cup to my chest, I picked up my brush and began to paint. I just wasn't sure what I was painting.

"_You call this art," he hissed, ripping the canvas with his foot as he kicked it. "This is trash. You're trash."_

Closing my eyes, I stilled my brush and tried to get him out of my head. _He_ wasn't here. _He_ couldn't be here. _He_ was gone, away from me, never able to hurt me again.

A hand landed on my shoulder, startling me.

"Ah!" I cried, jumping and spilling my coffee all over myself. "Oh, fucking shit, that's hot!"

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Carlisle muttered, waving his hands across my boobs. "I thought you heard me come in."

"It's fine," I grumbled, putting the cup down on the floor and rushing back into my bedroom.

I pulled off the T-shirt I had been wearing, tossing it in the hamper. Walking into the bathroom, I washed off the coffee, trying to sooth the red, shiny skin that was now on my legs, and chest from the scolding hot coffee. Heading back into my bedroom, I pulled one of my other T-shirts out of my laundry basket and slipped it on, adding a pair of black cotton shorts. When I walked back into the living room, I found Carlisle on his hands and knees, arm muscles tensing as he scrubbed the coffee stains out of the carpet. Sighing, I went over and knelt down next to him, covering his hand with mine.

"Don't," I murmured.

He looked up at me, eyes wide and full of fear. The way they always were when he thought he had hurt me.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I am so fucking sorry."

"I wasn't paying attention," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "It was my fault."

"Don't do that," he groaned, falling back onto his ass, and pulling his knees up, hands fisting his blond hair.

"Car —"

"No, it's my fault!" he yelled, pulling on his hair. "ALWAYS MY FAULT!"

Gently, I pulled his hands out of his hair and moved so that I was straddling his lap. He rested his head on my shoulder, letting his tears seep into my shirt — tears I knew had nothing to do with the coffee that burned me.

His arms wrapped around me, holding me tight.

I ran my fingers through his hair, letting him cry again. It wasn't the first time he had broken down with me and I doubted it would be the last, either. Carlisle held me when I cried from the demons that haunted me, and I did the same for him. No questions asked.

"Are your legs okay?" he whispered once he had calmed down.

"They're fine," I murmured. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I pulled his head back and looked him in the eyes, finding nothing but doubt in them. "They are fine, Dr. Cullen."

"Let me see," he said.

I rolled my eyes as I stood up, pulling the shades up on the window so he could see my legs. Tugging my shorts up a little, I showed him my legs. Carlisle groaned as he reached over and touched the red, blotchy area.

Hissing, I swatted his hand away. "Don't fucking touch it, asshole!"

"Sorry," he muttered, standing up.

"Don't apologize again," I ordered, turning and picking up my now empty cup of coffee. Walking into the kitchen, I dumped out the rest of the coffee. "I don't think we'll need that right now."

"You were painting."

I froze for a split second before I looked over my shoulder at him.

"Not really," I muttered. "Just messing around."

"No, you were lost inside your pretty little head," he murmured, a small smile pulling on the corner of his lips. I rolled my eyes, placing the empty coffee pot in the sink. "Bella."

"It's nothing."

My breath caught in my chest as I looked back at him, pleading with him to drop it. His smile fell and I let out a shaky laugh, feeling the tears building in my eyes. The tears that stayed away when the coffee burned me, but always came roaring back when I didn't want them.

I don't even know what it is," I muttered, shifting my eyes to the ground. "A mess — a pile of shit."

"It's not," he whispered. Biting on my bottom lip, I looked around the kitchen. "I'm starving."

I smiled, looking back at him. "Me, too."

"Let's go out today," he suggested. "I don't work tonight. Let's get out of here. Do something, I don't know, crazy."

"Okay, just gotta stop by the diner and grab my check."

Carlisle smiled — a real smile — before kissing my head and leaving my apartment. I showered, letting the water stay on the cool side so it wouldn't irritate the burns on my legs. Once I was done, I dried off and slipped on my favorite panties: a pair dark blue, silk boy cut panties. Sometimes a girl just needed special panties. It was hot in Vegas in June so I decided to wear a dark blue mini-skirt and white tank-top with one of those built in bras. Knotting my hair on the top of my head, I slipped my feet into a pair of white flip-flops, grabbed my small purse, and headed to Carlisle's apartment. He was standing in the middle of his bedroom, khaki shorts hung low on his hips and no shirt on. It really was shame I wasn't attracted to him, he really was a gorgeous man.

"Stop staring at me, pervert," he laughed, pulling a grey T-shirt off his bed, and slipping it over his head. The front of the shirt had Yale written in large black letters.

"You know you like it," I teased, smiling. "You ready?"

"Yep," he murmured, slipping his wallet into his back pocket and grabbing his keys.

He slipped his hand into mine as we made our way out of our crappy building, ignoring the drunk on the front stoop and heading to the diner. Neither Carlisle nor I could afford a car and had gotten quite used to walking or taking the bus where ever we needed to go.

Ten minutes later, we walked into the diner and found Embry standing at the counter, going through a stack of tickets and grumbling about not making any money. As the door chimed announcing our arrival, he looked up, rolling his eyes when he saw Carlisle with me. Embry didn't like him, and the feeling was mutual.

"Where's my check?" I asked, ignoring the scowls on both of their faces. I had been in the middle of their pissing contests long enough to know better. Besides, we all knew Carlisle could kick Embry's scrawny ass.

"Here," was all Embry said, sliding the small white envelope out of the cash drawer to me. I picked it up, looking inside. Rage filled me as I snapped my eyes up to him. "Bella —"

"Where's the rest of it, motherfucker?" I snapped, slamming it back onto the counter. "You shorted me for two fucking nights that I worked in this shitty diner!"

"I know, but —"

"There are no goddamn buts!" I yelled. "Give me my fucking money or I'm taking the matter to your fucking father!"

Embry's eyes popped open, knowing that I would indeed take this to dear old Papa Call, the only man Embry answered to. "Bella, be reasonable. I had to pay Jess before she left and she needed a little extra money to get back home to Iowa."

"She was from Kentucky," I hissed. "I don't give a shit what she needed. I needed that extra money, too! I have rent to pay and I would fucking like to eat more than goddamn ramen noodles!"

"As soon as I can get it, I will pay you. Just please, don't talk to my dad," he begged me.

Sighing, I repressed my urge to reach across the table and slap the motherfucking shit out of him. "Fine, but you had better give me my money soon — or else."

He nodded his head frantically, knowing that I would go to his father if he didn't pay me soon. Rolling my eyes, I turned to Carlisle, who was glaring the fuck out of Embry. He wouldn't hesitate to fuck the little bastard up for me. Slipping my hand back into his, I pulled Carlisle out of the diner and back outside.

"I don't know why you still work in this shit-box," Carlisle muttered as I tucked my check into my purse. "He's always screwing you around."

"It's a job," I told him. "Not a lot of opportunities for me that don't include whoring myself out, dancing naked, or working in the casino, and I have an aversion to the uniforms at the casinos."

"But whoring yourself out and dancing naked would be okay?" he asked, laughing.

I smiled. "Beats the hell out of polyester."

Carlisle laughed, throwing his head back. I couldn't help, but laugh with him. Taking my hand back into his, he took off running down the street, still snickering. The only time I saw him let loose and be so free like this was after he had a breakdown. It was almost as if he had cleansed his soul and could finally breathe again.

I envied him.

A few minutes later, we ran into Sunset Park. He stopped and kicked off his shoes and socks, curling his toes into the grass, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath. Slipping my hand out of his, I kicked off my flip-flops and sat down on the grass, watching as he just stood there serenely. He looked nothing like the broken man who had come stumbling into the diner last night, or who broke down in my arms this morning. Carlisle almost looked happy.

"I always loved going to the park," he murmured, sitting down next to me and propping himself up on his arms. "How about you?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'd never been to a park until I got Vegas."

"Oh," he said, frowning.

I looked away, pulling my knees up and tucking my arms between them and my body.

Carlisle turned onto his side, propped up on his arm and laying his other hand on my knee. "Hey, you."

Turning my eyes to him, I smiled weakly.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered.

"Nothing," I lied — lying because no matter how hard I tried, the demons of my past were always sitting inside my head, waiting for me to let my guard down. But I couldn't tell him that, not if I wanted to keep him as a friend. "My mind is blank."

"No, there's something in there." Carlisle smiled. "Maybe something to do with that guy from the diner."

My cheeks warmed as I thought about Green Eyes.

"Oh, look at that blush," Carlisle snickered, falling onto his back, laughing.

"Shut the fuck up," I muttered, pushing his hand off of me.

Carlisle, however, just laughed harder.

"Fucking jerk," I chortled, shaking my head. I could never stay mad at him.

"Bella?" I looked behind me and saw Cherry Pie walking toward me in a pair of skin-tight jeans and a purple halter top that made her boobs look like they were about to pop out. Her dark hair had been pulled up so that the blue streaks, wove in and out. She stopped and stared at me, like she was expecting something.

"Um, you're cherry pie a la mode, right?" I asked, standing up.

Carlisle stood up behind me, slipping his arm around my waist. Cherry Pie smiled wider as she looked from me to him, giving him the once over.

"Yeah, but I usually go by Alice," she quipped.

"Right, Alice," I said, lifting my hand up.

"Well, since Bella won't introduce me, I guess I will. I'm Carlisle Cullen."

"Alice Brandon," she said, smiling. "Well, I should get going. Works going to be a real bitch tonight."

"Where do you work?" Carlisle asked.

"Over at Murphy's Law," she purred, winking at him. "You two should come by."

"Maybe we will," he cooed. I rolled my eyes at their blatant flirting, but didn't say anything.

"I hope so," she murmured, walking away.

Carlisle turned and watched her as she swayed her hips seductively. I gagged as I bent over and picked up my shoes, leaving him there gawking after her.

"Hey, where are you going?" Carlisle asked, catching up to me.

"Leaving to you lust after Alice," I muttered with a wave of my hand.

"I was not," he grumbled.

Looking up at him, I noticed he was red around the ears. I laughed — a lot.

"Stop laughing at me, bitch!"

"Looks who's blushing now, motherfucker," I snickered.

"Shut up," he muttered, rolling his eyes and taking my hand in his. "She was cute."

"She was," I agreed. "I'd do her."

"And I would watch," he laughed.

Cackling with him, Carlisle and I made our way down to the waterfront, sitting at the edge. I leaned over and laid my head on his shoulder and watched the ducks. Closing my eyes, I let my body relax and just enjoyed the sunshine.

"We should go," he murmured, turning and pressing his lips onto the top of my head. "To the bar."

"I don't know," I whispered, warily.

"I'll protect you," he swore.

"You can't."

"I will," he murmured. "This time I will. I promise."

Hearing the sincerity in each word, I gripped his hand tighter and nodded my head, agreeing to go and praying that it wouldn't be a mistake.

**Thank you for all the reviews. I know that Carlisle flirting with Alice is . . . odd, but remember that these characters aren't like they are in the books.**


	5. Chapter 5

**EPOV**

After a long day sitting at my piano of trying to get the melody out of my head and onto the music sheet, I gave up and headed down to the bar. Saturday nights down at Murphy's Law were worse than Fridays. The drunks were meaner, poorer, and bitterer. They made my job even more unbearable than it usually was.

When I pulled my bike up behind the bar, I saw Ben pressed against his girl, Angela — one hand on the wall and his other arm wrapped around her as he held her up and fucked her right there and then. She had her legs wrapped around his waist — shirt hanging wide open, boobs hanging out. It wasn't the first time I had seen them going at it, but at least this time, Ben had figured out how to just pull his dick out and not drop his pants completely. Seeing his pasty ass once had been torturous enough.

I shut my bike off and headed inside, ignoring the moaning coming from the two of them. If you looked at Angela, you would think she was a quiet, shy, librarian type. Tall, thin, and voluptuous, with long dark hair and big brown eyes, she certainly wasn't innocent. Angela worked at one of the strip clubs, making men come in their pants when she wore her tiny plaid skirt, extra small white blouse, and thick black-framed glasses. She knew how to play up the innocent school girl look.

"Oh, fuck, Ben! Right there, baby," she cried out, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back. "Harder!"

I gagged and headed inside, trying desperately to get the image of Angela and Ben fucking out of my head. He came in ten minutes later with a lazy grin and a freshly fucked look on his face. If he started whistling Dixie, I fucking swear I would punch him in the throat.

Before I could say anything the front door to the bar opened and our boss Paul Lahote came waltzing in with a dark caramel-haired woman. She couldn't be much older than me, maybe a year or two. Her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and she wore very little make-up. She was wearing a short black skirt with a red strapless top and a pair of matching red heels. She looked around nervously, like she was unsure why Paul was bringing her in here.

"Masen, this is your new server, Esme . . ." Paul trailed off as he looked back over at her, having forgotten her last name.

"Platt. My name is Esme Platt," she said, shortly with a roll of her eyes.

I smiled at her.

"Edward Masen," I chuckled, holding out my hand to her. "Nice to meet you, Esme."

"Yeah, you, too," she muttered, shaking my hands as she looked around the place. "This place is a dump."

"Yeah, it is, but the drunks like it," I agreed, liking her frankness and ability to say what's on her mind. Paul cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the situation. Not like I hadn't told him how much this place sucked. Wasn't my fault he was a cheap bastard.

"Show her the ropes, Masen," he ordered before turning and walking out.

Alice came skipping in about twenty seconds later, laughing her ass off.

"One day, I'm going to enjoy watching Emmett kick Paul's ass," Alice snickered, sitting on a bar stool. "That dirty motherfucker tried to grab my ass again."

"Fucker," I muttered, slamming a glass down onto the bar top.

"Who are you?" Alice turned to Esme, whose eyes were wide open. "Are you fucking breathing? Edward, I think she stopped breathing. Hurry! Give her mouth to mouth."

"Alice, shut the fuck up," I laughed. "You're scaring the newbie."

Alice threw her head back and laughed as she stood up. "Fuck, I love fresh meat."

Without another word, Alice walked off to get ready for the night.

Esme turned and looked back at me. "Is she always such a bitch?"

"Yes," I admitted. "That's Alice Brandon. She's the best waitress we have in this shit box and she doesn't take bullshit from anyone," I explained as the door opened and Emmett came in, running his hand through his dark curly hair. "That's Emmett McCarty. He'll protect you with his life. Just don't make him have to."

"S'up." Emmett nodded at Esme before turning to me. "Dude, Ally-Cat tell you about that fucker again?"

"Yep." Looking over at Esme, I waved toward the back. "You can follow Alice around for a bit."

"Okay," she muttered, before she nervously walking toward the back room of the bar. I shook my head and looked back at Emmett, who was openly ogling her.

"She's hot," he exclaimed, turning back to me. "Seems kind of skittish, though. You really think having Alice train her is the best move?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "No, but if she can handle Alice, then she'll be a keeper."

"Whatever." Emmett snorted, turning and heading over to the door.

An hour later, I had the bar ready for the night shift. Emmett was in front of his door. Ben had washed his hands — I knew where his hands had been — and was ready to feed the drunks. Alice had given Esme the ins and outs of the place, and Esme looked like she was ready to throw up. With a nod of my head, I motioned for Emmett to open the doors.

Two hours later, the bar was in full swing and I had already had to 'talk' to two different groups.

The first was a group of college aged motherfuckers out spending Mom and Dad's money, who thought it would be all right to drag Alice out to the dance floor and rub their junk all over her. She kneed one of them in the nuts, dug the heel of her stiletto into the foot of another one, and popped a third one in the nose, effectively breaking it. Then, she came and got me. I tried to be nice as Emmett and I threw out the trash, but my fist may have come into contact with one or more of their jaws and based on the squealing that the one Emmett had was doing, I guessed he had even less control of his fists.

The second group palmed Esme's ass. Now, when you work in a bar full of drunks, having your ass grabbed was common, but when she told you to stop, and you don't — well, that's when I came into the picture. Luckily, I was able to convince this group to just leave and not come back. Esme looked a bit flustered as she stammered out a thank you. I winked at her and reassured her that it wasn't a big deal. And it wasn't. I did it for Alice and I'd do it for her, too. One thing I wouldn't tolerate was anyone who put their hands on a woman without their consent.

Not again, anyway.

Heading back to the bar, I returned to work. I had just bent over to pull out a bottle of beer from the cooler when someone started tapping their nails on the bar, quite impatiently in fact. Ignoring them, I stood up and slid the beer down to the guy who'd ordered it.

"Excuse me," the voice that had been haunting me for two days called out.

I froze for a split second before I turned and found my angel standing at the end of the bar. Her hair was down, framing around her face. A small, tentative smile played on her lips. However, there was something in her eyes — fear, uncertainty, something that I hadn't seen in almost ten years. She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and my cock hardened.

"Hey." I felt like an idiot as I walked over to her.

"Hi," she said, quietly. "I didn't know you worked here."

"For a few years now."

My angel nodded and looked around. "This place is a bigger dump than my diner."

I laughed. "True."

Before either of us could say anything else, the blond guy from the diner came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. Jealousy surged through me once again. The blond man looked up at me, a smirk spreading across his face, like he knew something I didn't. My fingers twitched, urging me to reach across the bar and slam his head down, but I resisted.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked.

"Fine," I bit out. My angel frowned. "What can I get you?"

"Beer. Whatever you have on tap," he said. Looking down at my angel, he asked, "What do you want?"

"Water," she murmured, giving him a look. He sighed, but nodded his head, silently agreeing to her unspoken request.

"Water for the lady."

Looking down at my angel again, I walked over and pulled her a bottle of water out and filled him a mug of beer. When I looked back, my angel had turned and was facing her . . . friend. He leaned down to her whispering something into her ear, something that caused her to tense. Even from the back, I could tell he had upset her. Biting back my growl, I walked back over and slammed their drinks down, causing her to jump up and spin around. Fear stretched across her and I immediately felt like an ass for scaring her.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

"CARLISLE!" Alice screamed, running over and jumping on the guy standing behind my angel. He laughed, wrapping his arms around her, placing one of his hands dangerously close to her ass. "I can't believe you actually came!"

"You told us we should." Carlisle laughed, putting her back down on her feet. "Who am I to ignore the suggestion of a beautiful woman?"

"You have to come dance with me," Alice demanded, pulling on his hand.

Carlisle smiled and looked down at my angel. "I'll be back."

"Ok," my angel murmured. Alice squealed as she pulled Carlisle out to the dance floor, grinding her ass into him. "She's perky."

Looking back at my angel, I smiled. "Most of the time she's a bitch."

"He can be an ass," she giggled, picking up her water.

"Doesn't it bother you?" I asked.

"What?"

"Him out there dancing and flirting with another woman," I explained.

My angel sighed. "You get used to it."

"Who's that out there with Ally-Cat?" Emmett wondered, stomping his way over to the bar. Before I could explain, he looked down at my angel. "Sweetheart!"

Without missing a beat, my angel reached up and grabbed his nipple, twisting and bringing Emmett down to her level. He opened his mouth and silently cried out.

"My name is not sweetheart, you motherfucking asshole," my angel hissed.

"I'm fucking sorry, Bella!" he wailed, pulling his nipple out of her grip. "Shit, they're attached, you know."

"I know." Bella smirked, looking back at me. "What?"

My angel — whose name apparently was Bella — took Emmett down, getting him to actually apologize. I opened my mouth several times, but I couldn't seem to speak.

"I'm Edward Masen," I finally managed to utter.

She smiled. "Bella Swan."

"That fucking hurt," Emmett muttered. "Now who's that motherfucker out on the dance floor with Alice?"

"His name is Carlisle, and he's not a motherfucker," Bella gritted, glaring at Emmett. He shrank back, covering his man-boobs.

"You're like a fucking ninja," Emmett grumbled, walking away.

I laughed.

"What's so funny?" Bella asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Edward, dude, I could use some help," Ben hollered before I could explain. Turning, I saw him swamped with people.

"I'm coming." Looking back at Bella, I smiled. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be back."

"Okay," she breathed, pulling her bottom lip back in between her teeth.

My cock twitched.

I headed over and started helping Ben fill orders. Alice came back over, grinned, and grabbed an order from us. I looked back and saw Carlisle sitting next to Bella, but she was watching me, completely ignoring whatever he told her. I smiled at her and she blushed, ducking her head. That woman was killing me.

Ben and I had finally gotten caught up when we heard a loud scream. Snapping my attention toward it, I saw Esme being pinned to the wall by a guy who had his hand around her throat. Gritting my teeth together, I catapulted over the bar, but before I could get there, Carlisle had the fucker on the ground, knee in his gut, and hand wrapped around his throat and a menacing look on his face.

"She said no, you dumb fuck," he snarled, spit spraying into the drunk's face. "When she says no, she fucking means no. You don't put your fucking hands on her." Jerking the man up an inch off the ground, Carlisle slammed him back down. "YOU FUCKING ASS!"

Esme stayed pressed against the wall, tears swimming in her eyes.

Carlisle — keeping his hand wrapped around the guy's throat — looked up at her and his eyes softened.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Esme nodded frantically. "Did he hurt you? Did you hit your head on the wall?"

"No," Esme whispered, shaking her head.

Carlisle nodded and stood up, dragging the guy up by the throat. Emmett pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed the asshole from Carlisle, hauling him out through the back. Based on the look on Emmett's face, that guy was not going to look too pretty in the morning.

Carlisle stepped over to Esme, holding out his hand. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." She nodded, placing her hand in his. They both looked down at their hands before lifting their eyes upward.

As they stood there, staring deeply into each other's eyes, I turned back and looked at Bella, who was still sitting on her stool. However, her eyes were wide and frightful, and her grip on her bottle of water was so tight, her knuckles were white. Pushing my way past everyone, I rushed over to her. Bella scrambled off the stool and hit the wall behind her, breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Her lips trembled as she opened her mouth. "I have to go."

"What?" I frowned. "Please, wait. It's almost closing time."

"I can't," she cried, bringing her hand up to her mouth.

"Bella, oh my God," Carlisle muttered, pushing past me and catching her before she dropped to the floor. She threw her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. "It's okay. I've got you, honey."

Standing up with her in his arms, he turned and headed toward the door. Without even thinking, I reached out and grabbed his arm.

"I'll take her home," I said, not even realizing what I was saying.

Carlisle looked over his shoulder at me. "You don't know her."

Without giving me a chance to say anything else, Carlisle turned and pushed his way past everyone and out of the bar. I turned and saw Alice, Esme, Emmett, and Ben all watching me, confused expressions on their faces. Composing myself, I headed over and put my hands on Esme's shoulder.

"Sure you're okay?" I asked.

She nodded her head, ducking her head down.

I reached over and tilted her head up. "You don't have to be strong for us. Your first night has been a real bitch."

"Is it always like this?" Esme's voice trembled.

"Pretty much," I admitted, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. "But we'll keep you safe, Esme."

"As if it's that easy," she mumbled, pulling away from me and heading back over to her tables.

"That bitch needs to get a backbone," Alice quipped. "Can't let those bastards have control."

Alice headed back over to her section, and I turned to head back behind the bar.

However, Emmett grabbed my arm, spinning me so I was facing him. "Dude, you look like shit."

"Gee, thanks," I grumbled, pulling my arm out of his grip. "We're closing early. Flip the lights."

"Paul's gonna have your ass if he finds out," Emmett warned.

"Do I look like I am scared of that pussy?" I hissed. Emmett simply stood there, staring at me. "Flip the fucking lights."

Emmett shook his head and headed over to the front door, flipping the lights on, causing everyone to look over at him.

"Bar's closing. Pay up and get out," he said, loudly. Everyone started grumbling. "NOW!"

Half an hour later, Emmett was able to lock to front door. Alice and Esme got their sections cleaned while Ben and I handled behind the bar. He bid us a good night and headed home, probably to Angela. Ten minutes later, Emmett, Alice, Esme, and I walked out back.

"Take me home, baby!" Alice giggled, jumping on Emmett's back and slapping his ass.

"Fuck, Ally-Cat! That hurts." Emmett rubbed his ass, hoisting her higher on his back.

"You love the pain," Alice teased, laughing as she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his head back. "Now, take me home!"

"Yes, Mistress Ally," Emmett roared, taking off down the alley.

I chuckled and locked the door to the bar before looking back at Esme, who appeared nervous. "You got a car?"

"No. I'm just gonna walk," she muttered.

"I don't think so," I scoffed, tossing her my helmet. Esme caught it, hugging it to her chest. "These streets aren't safe, especially at night."

"I'll be fine," she insisted, trying to hand me the helmet back.

"I don't fucking care," I growled, straddling my bike. "Get the damn helmet on your head and get on the back of my bike. I'm fucking taking you home."

Esme didn't say anything as she rattled off her address and climbed on behind me, pulling the helmet over her head. She slipped her arms around my waist loosely. Rolling my eyes, I reached down and pulled on her arms, tightening her grip around my waist. Kick starting my bike, I headed toward Esme's apartment.

Her building looked like it was a little nicer than mine. Parking my bike, I climbed off and helped her off. Esme shoved my helmet into my hands, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Are you quitting?" I asked.

She looked up at me, surprise etched on her face. "Quitting what?"

"The bar," I said. "You had a rough first night."

"I did," she admitted. Shaking her head, she sighed. "I can't quit. I need the job."

"There are other jobs," I pointed out.

"I am not a whore," she spat.

"Never said you were," I said, putting my hands up. "But you had better get tougher skin, because the drunks are only going to get meaner and touchier the longer you work there."

"I can handle it," she gritted out, turning and walked toward her building. "Thanks for the ride."

"I'll be here tomorrow at six," I yelled. "Don't make me wait."

Esme waved me off. Being somewhat of a gentleman, I waited until she was inside before I climbed onto my bike and headed home. Tossing my keys and helmet onto the floor again, I locked my door and headed straight to my bedroom. Stripping down to just my boxers, I climbed into my bed and pulled the blanket over my head. For the second night in a row, my angel starred in my dreams. Only tonight, all I noticed was the fear in her eyes.

**Thanks again for all the support! I love reading your reviews, even if I don't always get a chance to reply to them.**


	6. Chapter 6

**BPOV**

"_You're worthless," he sneered, gripping the canvas between his hands and ripping my painting down the middle. "Nobody's going to buy this shit. Why can't you be normal?"_

"_I love painting," I spoke up, trying to defend myself. He swung his hand back, sending me flying into the wall._

"_You don't argue with me, you fucking bitch!" he bellowed. Grabbing me by the hair, he dragged me up, slamming me against the thick plaster. Wrapping his fingers around my throat, he leaned in, the smell of scotch oozing off of him. "I'll make you pay for even thinking you have a choice in this life."_

_Pulling me away from the wall, he slammed me back against it, my head cracking the plaster. Sliding me up again, I felt my feet leave the ground. I clawed at his hand, trying to free myself. As the darkness crept over, I heard him laughing._

Springing up in bed, I screamed, the sound echoing throughout the room. When a hand reached up and grabbed my shoulder. I threw my elbow back, scrambled out of the bed, and crouched defensively in the corner. My entire body shook, and my eyes burned with the tears I refused to let fall. Crying was for the weak.

"Bella," Carlisle called out. Snapping my eyes up, I saw him slide out of my bed, placing his hands up in the air. "It's me."

Shifting my eyes around the room, I searched for any sign of _him_, reminding myself that _he_ couldn't be here. _He_ was locked up, never able to hurt me again.

Tuning back to Carlisle, I let out the breath I had been holding, trying to get the strength to unclench my fists. Carlisle moved over, sitting in front of me. Grabbing my hands, he peeled my fingers back, blending his with mine. A tear slid down my face, dropping onto my shirt.

"You okay?" he wondered, reaching over and gently stroking my cheek.

My eyes fluttered to close and I inhaled deeply.

"Hey, look at me."

I opened my eyes, looking up into his baby blues.

"You are okay."

"What time is it?" I murmured. Carlisle looked over his shoulder at the clock sitting on my night table.

Looking back at me, he frowned. "Almost seven."

"I need to get ready for work," I muttered, sliding against the wall. He stood up, still holding onto my hand. Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead against his chest. "Thanks."

"For what?" he asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Just — just thanks."

Leaning up, I kissed his cheek, knowing Carlisle wouldn't push me to explain why I freaked out last night. Leaving him standing there, I walked into my bathroom and started the shower. I turned, looking at myself in the mirror. I expected to see bruises covering my cheeks, a busted lip, or maybe even, a hand print around my neck, but they weren't there, not anymore. They — like so many before them — faded into nothing, just like I had done.

Turning away from the mirror, I stripped off clothes and stepped into the shower, allowing, my mind drifted off to Edward. Tipping my head back into the water, I thought about how his lips curved upward, his eyes twinkled when he laughed. Shaking my head, I pushed all thoughts of him out away. There was no way he'd ever be interested in a freak like me, especially not after the way I acted last night.

_Just one more way that I fuck everything up, _I thought.

I finished showering and dried off before I stepped out of the shower. When I walked into my bedroom, I found my uniform laying on my bed, causing me to smile. Carlisle always took good care of me, even when it annoyed the shit out of me. I slipped on my panties, adding a simple white cotton bra, before pulling on my uniform. Tucking my hair up into a messy bun, I slipped on my shoes and walked into living room of my small, crappy apartment. Carlisle was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, sipping on the coffee he'd made, and wincing. He made horrible coffee, we both knew it.

"Want me to walk you?" he offered, dumping out the thick concoction.

Shaking my head, I smiled. "I'll be fine."

"You sure? I don't mind walking you to the diner." Worry oozed off each word. Carlisle wasn't used to me being the one who needed holding. Normally, I got over my freak outs within a few minutes, pushing everything back. I was determined to be strong enough to just deal with it all, but not this time. For some reason, this time it shook me to my core.

"I'll be fine," I lied, knowing he'd see right through me. "I better go. Lock up behind you, okay?"

Carlisle nodded, walking me to the door. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head before I left. I walked out of the building, down the front stoop, and headed toward the diner, trying to steel my nerves for a long day.

Walking into the diner, I was surprised to see Mr. Call standing at the cash register with a tall, thin man with shaggy blond hair that hung lazily in his face. They both looked up at me, and I noticed the blond guy had dark blue eyes, almost so dark they looked black. He shifted his eyes away. I looked back at Mr. Call, who was an older version of his son.

"Isabella," he greeted me, smiling. He refused to call me Bella, even after I threatened to quit. He and I had a special relationship; he knew this place would fall apart without me, and he liked pissing me off. It was a love/hate relationship for sure.

"Mr. Call," I gritted, walking around the counter. "What are you doing here?"

"I own the place," he quipped, turning to face me. I stowed my bag under the counter, before crossing my arms in front of my chest. He huffed. "I fired Embry."

"You fired your son?" I choked, stifling my urge to laugh. What kind of man fires his own flesh and blood?

_You know exactly what kind of man._

Inhaling sharply, I shook my head.

"I had no choice after he took last night deposit and blew it on a crap hand in blackjack. Who the fuck bets three grand when you're showing seventeen?" Mr. Call shook his head, clearly disgusted with his son. It didn't surprise me. Embry had always been a loser. "Anyway, he's lucky I didn't have his ass thrown in jail. Maybe he'll learn something in one of my other businesses since this one has taught him nothing."

"I highly doubt that," I muttered, as the door to the diner opened. Sam and Emily came in with their girls, waving on their way back to their usual table. "I'll be right there."

Emily smiled. "No hurry, Bella."

I turned back to Mr. Call, and then at the blond guy, looking directly at him. "Who are you?"

"Jasper," he stammered, dropping his eyes to the floor, "Whitlock."

"Hmm," I snorted, looking up at Mr. Call. "He's what? Embry's replacement?"

"Something like that," he replied. "Jasper's going to work the kitchen, but I need you to run this place."

I clenched my jaw.

"No!" I sneered, slamming my hand on the counter. Jasper flinched, stepping backward. Taking a calming breath, I glared at Mr. Call. "No, I will not be running this shithole. I hate it!"

"You work here," he gritted. "You will do as I say, or else."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Fine! Then I quit!"

Spinning on my heel, I walked back around the counter and over to the door.

I had barely touched the handle when Mr. Call called out, "Isabella, stop!"

Turning, I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"My name's Bella," I snarled.

"Fine, Bella." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Look, I need you to help me get this place in order. I'm looking to hire some help, but not many people want to work in this place when they can make more money at the casinos."

"Then I want a raise." I smirked, folding my arms in front of me. Might have been my imagination, but it looked like Jasper smiled. Of course, with the way his hair hung down, it made it hard to see his face clearly.

"Bella, I can't afford to pay you more, and hire new staff," Mr. Call whined.

Instead of replying, I turned and placed my hand on the door, pushing it open.

"A dollar more an hour."

"Three," I countered, looking over my shoulder at him.

He hesitated, before offering, "Two."

"Deal." I smirked, walking back around the counter and putting on my apron. I turned to Jasper. "By the way, I'm Bella Swan."

"Nice to meet ya," he drawled, southern accent wrapping around each word.

The door to the diner opened again, I looked over to see the old man stalking in. Sighing, I pulled out my order pad and scribbled down his order. Shoving it into Jasper's hand, I reached over, pouring the old man some coffee. "Get his order made now or he's going to be up my ass. Then I'll be up yours."

Jasper nodded before scurrying into the kitchen, limping to his left a little. Mr. Call snickered, until my glare stopped him. I turned, carrying the pot of coffee with me as I walked over to the old man, setting his freshly poured cup in front of him.

Before I could say anything, he huffed, "Where you been, girl?"

"What?" I asked, completely taken back.

"Where you been?" he repeated, looking up at me for the first time in the two years I've been working here. His dark eyes were lackluster and full of pain. "You weren't here."

"You miss me, old man?" I chuckled, leaning against the seat across of him.

"No," he grumbled, dropping his eyes down. "You're just the only one who knows what they're doing in this place."

"They mess up pretty bad yesterday?" I asked. He nodded, but didn't offer anymore. "I'll take care of it. I'm going to make sure everything's perfect today, okay?"

Again, he nodded, and I knew our conversation was over. I headed over to Sam and Emily, getting their drink orders, apologizing again for it taking me so long. They both waved me off, thanking me for the entertainment. I scoffed, walking back around the counter. Loading my tray with their drinks, I picked up the old man's order from the window on my way by. Jasper did good and made everything perfect for him.

"Here you go." I set the plate down, watching as he turned it in a complete circle. "Let me know if you need anything."

He grunted out an okay before waving me off. I dropped Sam and Emily drinks off, laughing when little Cassie stood up in the booth and hugged me. The dark haired little girl had just turned five and would be starting kindergarten in the fall. I wrote down their order, turning it back into Jasper, who said he'd have it ready in five minutes. A man of his word, he had their order cooked to perfect four minutes later.

A few minutes after I dropped their food off, the old man left. I went over and started clearing his table. But instead of his usual twenty dollars, he'd left me thirty. On the bottom of his ticket he scribbled, _**Don't leave me again.**_

Smiling to myself, I finished clearing his table and pocketed the extra tip before going back to work.

Mr. Call left after an hour, muttering something about the place losing more money than it earned. I bit back the snarky retort about how this place was a dive, but seeing as I needed the job, I decided against it. Jasper minded his own business in the kitchen, pushing out orders faster than Embry ever had. We made it through the breakfast rush and the lunchtime stampede, finding ourselves sitting at the counter, bored by the middle of the afternoon. Jasper sat tapping his foot nervously.

"How long have you been in Vegas?" I asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"A few weeks," he muttered, looking over at me. "You?"

"Long enough to hate it," I griped. "A couple of years. You're from the south?"

"Texas." He shifted his eyes away. "How about you?"

"Arizona," I replied, as the door to the diner opened. Looking back, I froze when I saw Edward walk in. Looking around, he smiled when he spotted me. "Hey."

"Hi," he said, shifting his eyes to Jasper, before looking back at me. "Um, this place is pretty dead."

"Afternoon drought," I explained. "By now, everyone's headed over to the casinos, where they will spend all their hard earned money on the nickel slots."

Edward nodded "They'll be down at the bar tonight, bitching about it, too."

"True," I admitted, standing up. "You can sit wherever you want."

"Um, okay." Edward walked over, sitting on the stool next to me.

I walked back around the counter, feeling the need to have something between us. Jasper shifted his eyes over to Edward, giving him a stiff nod before looking away.

Edward looked back at me. "Still have some pie?"

"None that hasn't been in there for a week," I laughed, shaking my head. "We have some pretty damn good cookies, though."

"Oatmeal raisin?" he hoped, eyes sparkling.

"Perhaps." I smirked. "Want ice cream with them?"

"Please."

Jasper stood up, scurrying into the back while I got Edward's cookies and ice cream. I slid the plate in front of him, watching as he scooped up a spoonful and brought it to his mouth, savoring it. He moaned and I felt a tingle shoot through my body that I'd never felt. Turning away, I poured him some coffee, setting it in front of him.

"These are really good." He smiled, gesturing to the cookies. "Did you make them?"

I nodded. "Glad you like them."

"Best I've ever had," he chuckled.

"I doubt that," I scoffed, pulling a stool over and sitting down.

For several minutes, neither one of us spoke. The silence was deafening. From the kitchen, I could hear Jasper piddling around, cleaning and putting away dishes. Edward finished his dessert and pushed his bowl away. I reached out of the empty dish, but he grabbed my hand. I should have pulled away from his, but I didn't. Instead, I looked up at him, feeling my breath catch in my chest.

"I'm worried," he admitted, sounding ashamed of himself.

"Why?" I wondered.

"I don't know," he muttered, letting my hand go. I grabbed the dish and walked it over and setting in with the dirty dishes. "Last night, at the bar, you . . . Well, you looked scared."

I tensed, closing my eyes. The last thing I wanted to talk about was last night. Slowly turning to face him, I brought my hand up to my chest, laying my palm over my racing heart. Edward watched me, pleading me with his eyes not to push him away, but I couldn't explain to him. He'd never understand.

Clearing my throat, I said, "You don't need to worry about me, Edward. I'm fine."

"Yeah?" he pressed, cocking an eyebrow. I nodded. "Then, why do you look like you're about to piss all over yourself."

I clenched my jaw shut, shifting my eyes away. "Why do you care?"

"Bella . . ." Edward let his words trail off, shifting his eyes away from me. "I don't know, but I do."

"You shouldn't," I whispered. He looked back at me. "I'm not worth it."

Standing up, he tossed some money on the counter. Walking over to the door, he paused and turned back to me. "I think you're worth it."

Edward walked out the door, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging wide open. Jasper came out from the kitchen, looking between me and the door.

"You okay?" he asked. I looked over at him. "Bella?"

"I'm fine." My voice shook.

Turning back to the door, I could feel the tears burning in my eyes. That was the first time I'd ever heard anyone tell me I was worth anything.

**Thanks again for all the support! I love reading your reviews, even if I don't always get a chance to reply to them.**


	7. Chapter 7

**EPOV**

Walking out of the diner, I paused and took a deep breath. I don't know what pushed me to say that to her, but the moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew I meant them. She was worth it to me. I just didn't know why. It's almost like she spoke to me, without actually having to say anything. Shaking my head, I walked over to my bike and climbed on. Kick starting it, I looked back into the diner, and saw her still standing in the same spot. What was it about Bella that made my heart clench in my chest?

Trying to push all thoughts of Bella out, I headed over to Esme's. She was waiting for me outside, sitting on the bottom step with her knees pulled up in front of her. Instead of the short skirt she'd worn last night, she picked a pair of tight jeans tonight, matching it with a blood red tank top and leather boots. I didn't have the heart to tell her that it wouldn't matter to the drunks. All they saw were tits and ass, even if we weren't that kind of bar.

"Hey." I offered her the helmet. "Surprised to see you waiting for me."

"Figured it beat the hell out of walking," she muttered, climbing on behind me. Slipping her arms around my waist loosely, she laid her head on my back. "Just don't kill us. I'd rather not die today."

"I'll try not to," I scoffed, kick starting my bike again and taking off toward work.

Esme and I pulled up behind the bar a few minutes later. She climbed off, throwing the helmet at me, and running inside. I followed, stowing it under the bar, and started getting ready for my shift. Esme started the jukebox, before moving around and pulling chairs off the tables. Every few minutes, I could hear her singing along with the music. She had a nice voice, smooth and smoky. She had a very bluesy feel to her.

"You sing professionally?" I wondered.

Esme looked over at me and smiled.

"I wish," she laughed. "No, I'm not good enough to do more than sing along with the radio."

"Bullshit," I chuckled. "You've got a beautiful voice. Just need to find the right song, I think."

"I'd never be able to do it, Edward. I'm just another loser, biding her time until . . ." she trailed off, letting her words hang in the air.

"Until?" I pressed.

Shaking her head, she turned back to her table. "Until we're dead."

I didn't know what to say, so I choose to say nothing. She went on with her job, and I turned back to the bar, stocking the shelves and getting ready for another busy night. Even though Sunday's weren't nearly as hectic as Friday and Saturday, we'd still have a crowd, and an angry one at that. Ben shuffled in ten minutes later, moving slower than normal, which usually meant Angela got a little carried away in the bedroom. I tried not to think about them, and the twisted things they did to get off. They just fit together, and they both seemed to enjoy their lifestyles.

A few minutes before we were due to open, I heard the back door to the bar open as Alice and Emmett came in. He headed straight for the front door, nodding his head at me. I knew him well enough to know that when Emmett was this quiet, you just let him be. Sometimes, even Emmett needed time to deal with his shit, like we all seemed to do.

"EDDIE!" Alice sang, bouncing into the bar, jumping on my back. She leaned around and planted a sloppy wet kiss on my cheek.

"Get the fuck off of me Ally-Cat," I growled, pushing her off.

She laughed, jumping on top of the bar, showing off her bare legs. Lifting her leg up, she placed her foot directly on my chest.

"What do you think?" She pointed to the new tattoo on her ankle. Emmett and I both knew she loved tattoos and had several on her back, arms, and legs. The new one was of an angel. "You like?"

"It's nice," I commented, taking a better look at it. "What's up with Em?"

Alice shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know. He got a call this morning."

I nodded. A call was never a good sign. "Nice ink, Ally-Cat."

"He's pretty angry." She sighed, looking over her shoulder at him. "Watch him, okay? Make sure he doesn't do something stupid like — I don't know — get his ass thrown in jail."

"I will," I promised.

Alice climbed off the bar, leaned up on her toes, and kissed my cheek before heading out to cover her tables. I looked back at Emmett, who sat on his stool just inside the door with his face buried in his hands. In the four years that I'd been friends with him, I'd only seen him like this a handful of time. He, Alice, and I had an unspoken agreement: don't ask. We didn't when Alice raged with anger, or when I lost myself in my music, and we especially didn't when Emmett got quiet.

With a nod of my head, Emmett opened the bar, letting the eager drunks in. They rushed to the bar and tables, spouting off orders faster than we'd be able to pull them out. They were in a hurry tonight, ready to forget whatever trouble had brought them to Murphy's Law in the first place. Moving as fast as we could, Ben and I managed to get them all settled, ignoring the slamming, and bitter remarks about us being too slow. It came with the job, and you got used to it.

I kept a close eye on both Esme and Emmett tonight, needing to make sure that they both were okay. Esme had a rough time the night before, and while she came back, I didn't think she'd be able to handle more of the same. Something told me that she'd been pushed to her breaking point more than once. Maybe it was my own reflection that I saw in her eyes. Emmett was a breath away from letting loose on some poor schmuck. Whatever had gone down with that phone call this morning had set him off, taking the Emmett that Alice and I knew, and leaving a miserable, angry son of a bitch in his place.

We finally got the bar closed just after three in the morning. Ben took off, muttering something about hoping that Angela was asleep. She wouldn't be, and he knew that. Esme left, insisting that she didn't need a ride home. Even though I didn't believe her, I let her go and hoped that she would be all right. I made a mental note to drive by her place on my way home. Emmett glowered at the bar, spinning his bottle around while Alice sat on top of the bar, leaning back in her hands and letting her head hang back.

"Tonight might have been the calmest night we've had in this dump in at least a month," she murmured with a sigh.

"Yeah, the drunks were remarkably tranquil," I agreed, smiling as I looked up at her. "I didn't have to kick anyone's ass for you tonight."

"I don't need you to kick anyone's ass for me, Edward," she scoffed. "I can take care of myself."

"Everyone always says they can do it alone, but none of us can," Emmett muttered and, we looked over at him. "Don't worry about me, I can handle it all. Until you can't. Then, when someone tries to help you, you push us away. Middle of the night phone calls, sobbing on the other end about how much you need me, but you never let me help. Then, it's too late. Always too fucking late."

Neither of us knew what to say. Emmett had never been much of talker, outside of his usual smart-ass comments. He sighed, tossing his empty bottle in the trash and spinning on his seat, leaning against the bar. "I gotta leave town for a few days. Things came up, and I have to take care of them."

Alice placed her hand on his shoulder. "Need me to come with?"

Shaking his head, he leaned his head against her hand, "Nah, I've got this, Ally-Cat."

"You sure? Just say the word, man, and we're gone," I pushed.

He looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head. "I gotta do this on my own."

"Come on, Em." Alice smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. "I'll let you buy me some pie."

"Gee, Ally-Cat, you're so generous." Emmett smiled weakly, letting her lead him through the back. He stopped, looked back over at me. "Thanks, man."

"I didn't do shit," I muttered.

Shaking his head, he turned and headed through the back with Alice. I stood up, taking a look around the empty bar before going over and flicking off all the lights. Grabbing my helmet, I headed out, locking the door behind me. Turning, I was startled when I saw Bella sitting on an overturned bucket and leaning against that wall. She looked up at me, eyes wider than they had been last night.

Before I could say anything, she spoke. "Did you mean it?"

I could barely hear her words.

"What you said at the diner? Did you mean it?"

"Yes," I murmured. "What are you doing back here?"

"Waiting for you," she replied.

"Why didn't you come in?"

She looked from me to the door behind me, shaking her head. "I can't go back in there. Not yet."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. "It's dangerous out here."

She laughed. "It's dangerous in there."

"Sometimes," I admitted, grinning.

Bella turned away. "Why did you say that today?"

"I don't know, but I think it's true."

"It's not," she quipped, looking back at me and shivering. "It's chilly tonight."

"Where's your jacket?"

Bella shrugged her shoulders.

I stood up, moving over and offering her my hand. "Come on."

She placed her hand in mine. "Where are you taking me?"

I pulled her up and placed the helmet on her head. "It's a surprise."

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she followed me over to my bike. I straddled the machine, motioning for her to join me. Sliding her leg over, she climbed on and her arms around my torso. I sighed, covering her hands with mine.

"Hold on tight."

"As tight as I can," she whispered.

Her words seemed to hold double meanings, but I didn't press the issue. Kick starting my bike, I took off down the alley, and out onto the strip. Bella's arms tightened around me and I heard her squeal. I smiled and headed up to Exploration Peak, parking my bike at the base of the small mountain. Climbing off the bike, Bella handed me my helmet. I stowed it and led her up the mountain till we reached the top. Settling on one of the picnic tables, I watched as Bella stood a few feet away and looked over the strip. The city was alive, lit up with excitement and power.

Turning, she looked back at me.

"I've never been here before." She paused, turning back to the city, "Do you like living here, Edward?"

"It's okay," I replied. "Beats the hell out of Chicago."

Bella came over, sitting next to me. "I hate it here. It's too . . . I don't know, loud? Annoying? Bright? I just hate it."

I lay back on the table, looking at the dark sky. "Before I came here, I'd never seen stars."

"Seriously?"

I nodded, looking over at her.

"How is that possible?"

"I grew up in the city, surrounded by high-rises and skyscrapers," I muttered, shifting my gaze back to the sky. Bella lay back on the table next to me.

"I love the stars," she said, raising her hand and tracing them with her finger. "They're beautiful."

"I think so, too."

Looking over at her, I saw her smiling as she moved from one star to the other. Shifting her eyes over to me, she let her hands drop so that it rested on top of mine. Neither of us moved. All I could do was stare at her, memorizing each detail of her face. The few freckles sprinkled across her nose, the green specks in her eyes, and perfect curve of her lips. Weaving my fingers in with hers, I rolled onto my side, bringing my other hand up, stroking her cheek.

"Edward," she breathed, turning into my hand. "Did you mean it?"

"Yes," I whispered, just as breathless as she was. "Every word."

"You don't know me," she whimpered.

"I want to know you," I murmured, brushing her lips with my thumb.

Lifting her eyes up to mine, she frowned. "You shouldn't want to know me."

"But I do." I sighed, leaning away from her. "I don't know why I am so drawn to you, Bella."

"Me either," she muttered, pulling her hand from mine and sitting up. "I have to go. I'm going to be late for work."

"Okay."

Bella and I made our way back down the mountain, and climbed back onto my bike. She held on tighter this time when I drove us through the city, following her directions back to her apartment. I pulled up in front of a trashy building, and cut the engine. Bella climbed off the back, and handed me my helmet.

"Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome," I laughed. "I hadn't been up there in a while. It was nice to go back."

She nodded, shifting her eyes down to her feet. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

"Soon, I hope," I blurted out like an idiot.

Bella smiled, looking up at me.

"I'll come by the diner. Maybe get some more pie, or cookies."

"Sounds good," she murmured, pulling on her bottom lip. Leaning over, she brushed her lips across my cheek. "Thanks."

Before I could say anything, Bella turned and took off into the building. I looked up and saw Carlisle looking down from the second floor window. Looking away, I pulled my helmet on, and headed to my apartment. Tossing my keys and helmet into the floor, I sat down in front of my piano, and started playing, letting the music flow out of my fingers.

**Thanks again for all the support! I love reading your reviews, even if I don't always get a chance to reply to them.**


	8. Chapter 8

BPOV

When I got up to my apartment, I found Carlisle leaning against the front window, watching Edward drive off. I expected to get the third degree, or at least to have him tease me, but he didn't do either. He looked back at me, a small smile resting on his lips.

Coming over, he kissed the top of my head. "I'm working a double today."

"Be careful today. You know I worry." Fisting the front of his shirt, I pleaded with him. My nerves were on overdrive from everything that had happened today. I couldn't explain why Edward's words hit me so hard; maybe I didn't really want to. "Please, Car."

"I promise," he whispered, tilting my head up. "He's different, isn't he?"

"I don't know," I replied, honestly not knowing. "But he feels different."

"Just be cautious, Bell. You don't know him."

"Trust me, I am," I mumbled.

Kissing my forehead, Carlisle left.

I rushed to get ready for work, stripping off the jeans and t-shirt I'd thrown on after work, and putting on a clean, fresh uniform. By the time I got to the diner, I was running ten minutes late. Mr. Call tapped his fingers on his watch, like he was warning me. I snorted and grabbed my apron from under the counter, tying it around my waist, and picked up my order pad.

"You're late, Isabella," he grumbled, when I started a fresh pot of coffee, knowing just how long this pot had been sitting there. Louisa didn't do a damn thing when she covered the night shift.

"Am I?" I smirked, placing my hand on my hip. "Hmm, maybe you should fire me and hire someone else to take care of this dump?"

"Maybe I should," he mumbled, turning back to the register.

Jasper's nervous laughter came rattling through the small serving window leading into the kitchen. Catching his eye, I winked before turning and heading out to cover my tables. Mr. Call muttered something about me being a bitch, but I let it go. It wasn't anything I hadn't been told all of my life. Nothing I didn't know to be true, either.

Grumbling about us being pains in his ass, Mr. Call left just after the breakfast rush started pouring through the front door, leaving me and Jasper to handle them all. If I hadn't been expecting it, I would have been pissed as all fucking hell, but he did raise Embry, after all. Ignoring him, I returned to my tables, refilling everyone's drinks and taking a dozen orders.

Just after ten, the door to the diner opened. Looking over my shoulder, I smiled when the old man came shuffling in, muttering about the heat. I scribbled down his order, slipping it across the counter to Jasper before grabbing the coffee pot and a clean cup. Setting it on the table, I poured him some fresh coffee. He winced when he slid his arm across the table, grabbing the sugar.

"You okay, old man?" I wondered, placing my hand on his shoulder.

Freezing for half a second, he ignored my touch and dumped several spoonfuls into his cup. His eyes drooped more than usual and his lips hung a little to the left. Sliding into the booth across from him, I bent down to look him in the eye.

"You don't look good."

"I didn't ask ya," he griped, turning his eyes away and picking his cup up. "Where's my damn food?"

Sighing, I stood up, patting his shoulder. "It's coming, old man. Don't I always take care of you?"

"Hmph," he hummed, shrugging my hand off of him.

I refilled a handful more coffee cups before heading back around the counter and grabbing the six plates that were ready. We were unusually busy for the start of the week, which could only mean one thing: the casino made it big last night. Shaking my head at the sheer stupidity of some people, I refilled another round of coffee, apologizing for taking so long. Most everyone seemed understanding — including the old man — but not everyone seemed to feel the same way.

"It's about goddamn time," a heavy set, red haired man muttered, when I set his plate down. Unrolling his silverware, he grunted. "My eggs had better not be cold."

"They're not," I assured him, turning to walk away.

I had barely taken a handful of steps when I heard a loud crash. Turning around, I found his plate on the floor, broken in two pieces. Not a sound could be heard as I looked up from the food to the man, who had stood up.

"Was there a problem with your food, sir?"

"Yeah, it was late," he snarled, kicking one of the pieces toward me. I stepped out of the way before it hit my leg. "And cold."

"Is there a problem?" Jasper stammered, coming up behind me.

Red snorted, noticing his slight limp. "Yeah, this bitch — "

"Don't call her a bitch," Jasper spat, pulling me behind him.

Shifting my eyes up at the back of his neck, I saw scars leading up out of his shirt, disappearing into his hairline. Before I realized what I was doing, I reached up and ran my fingers along one of the scars, feeling the ridged skin under my fingers tips. Inhaling sharply, Jasper looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes filled with pain and sorrow. With a slight shake of his head, he faced Red again. What the hell had happened to Jasper?

"I think you need to leave," Jasper ordered, taking half a step back and wrapping his arm around me. I clutched onto the back of his shirt.

"Why don't you make me, gimp?" Red taunted, raising an eyebrow at him.

Before Jasper could do or say anything, the door to the dinner swung open and Sam came in, still dressed in his work uniform. At almost six and a half feet, Sam towered over most men. Add in his well-built body, dark no nonsense eyes, and large, powerful hands, and only an idiot would mess with him. Taking in the situation, Sam looked from me, to Jasper, to Red, and finally to the food on the floor. Lifting his head back up, he turned back to me.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, making it clear he wanted the truth.

"He," I whispered, hearing the tremor of fear in my voice, "got upset and threw his food on the floor."

My body began shaking, fearing the confrontation springing up in front of me.

Sam's eyes hardened when he looked back at Red. "Yeah? You think it's okay to come in here and act like a jackass, tossing your shit around?"

"I didn't," Red muttered, either realizing he'd been behaving like a jerk or that Sam could beat the shit out of him.

Sam walked behind the counter, picked up the broom and dustpan, and thrust them at him. "Clean it."

"No," Red scoffed, turning to walk out the door. In a breath, Sam had him pinned against the wall, nostril's flaring. "Get the fuck off of me."

"Clean it, or I'll make you eat it right off the motherfucking floor," Sam threatened. Then he threw him down and kicked the broom and dustpan at him. "What's it gonna be?"

Glaring at me, Red scrambled to his feet, picked up the broom and dustpan, and cleaned up his mess. Dropping them onto the floor, he brushed passed Sam, letting the door slam shut behind him. Sam picked them up and took them back behind the counter before taking a seat at the counter and picking up a menu. Slowly making my way around the counter, I took a deep breath and tried to comprehend what had just happened here.

"It's just me today, Bella." Sam smiled, looking over the menu. "Emily took the girls to see her mom for a couple of days. Bridget made me promise to come see you, though. Told me to tell Miss Bella that she's gonna miss you."

"Oh, um, well, I'm gonna miss her, too." Unsure of what else to say, I laid my order pad on the counter. "Sam."

"I'll take my usual," he said, reaching over and giving my hand a gentle squeeze, as if to tell me it's okay, he understood. "Tell your boy in there, I'm not in a hurry. Get all these people fed first, ya hear me?"

Nodding, I blinked back the burning tears creeping at the edge of my eyes. "Thanks, Sam."

I turned in his order, conveying his message to Jasper, who refused to meet my eyes, but managed to get two more tables' food ready. It took me nearly half an hour, but I got everyone their food, apologizing again to each and every one of them. More than one of them assured me I had nothing to apologize for, but I disagreed. I seem to have a knack for causing problems. The three- inch scar on my upper arm confirmed just that.

Once I cleared a couple of tables, I headed over to the old man's table, knowing he'd left in the frenzy. Lying on his table was a fifty dollar bill, with a ten on top. On one of the napkins he had scribbled, a note: _**You're better than this dump, girl, but please don't leave me. **_

Tracing my fingers over the words, I allowed a tear travel down my face. That cranky, old man wanted me. One of only two people who'd ever ask me not to leave, the other was Edward.

"Bella, I'm gonna head out," Sam announced, dusting his shirt off and standing up. "If that asshole comes back, give me a holler, okay? I wrote my number on my ticket. Promise me you'll call."

"I promise," I muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Nodding, he left, leaving just me, Jasper, and a handful of people. Shoving the old man's note in my pocket, I went back to work.

—SMTS—

By the middle of the afternoon, Jasper and I had managed to make it through the lunch rush and get the place stocked for the evening and night shifts. With nothing else to do inside the kitchen, he settled into one of the booths, facing out so that he could bend his knees in front of him. His pants rose up, showing one red and one blue sock.

"Nice socks," I commented.

He looked up from his book, lips twitching.

"Thanks," he murmured. "Couldn't find their matches."

"They're cool." I smiled.

He shrugged his shoulders, dropping his eyes back to his book. Taking a deep breath, I climbed off the counter and walked over to the booth where he was sitting. I noticed his eyes shift to me for a split second before going back to his book.

"I have a scar."

Breath hitching, he looked at me.

Pulling the sleeve on my uniform up, I showed him. "See."

He nodded. "What did you do?"

Frowning, I bit my lip. "I didn't do what was expected of me."

"What's that mean?" he drawled.

Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I wish I had never said anything.

"Um," I stammered, bringing my hand up to my chest. "Just what I said. People expected me to be . . . well, better, than what I am, and . . ."

Closing my eyes, I flinched, hearing the angry voice raging through my head again. _Worthless piece of shit, you never did a goddamn thing right._

"Me either," Jasper mumbled.

Snapping my eyes open, I saw him watching me with wide, fearful eyes.

"I, um . . ." His words hung in the air when he reached up to the neck of his shirt, pulling it down just enough for me to see half a dozen scars wrapping up and over his shoulder. "I guess I don't listen very well."

"Me either," I whispered.

Scrambling out of the booth, Jasper closed his book and shuffled into the kitchen, leaving me sitting there all alone.

—SMTS—

By the time the end of my shift came around, I was exhausted. I'd been up for more than thirty-six hours already, but even with as tired as I was, I couldn't seem to sleep. I lay in my bed, staring at the white, popcorn ceiling in my bedroom, thinking about Edward. To be honest, he'd been on my mind all day, every day since he came stumbling into the diner.

Throwing the blankets off of me, I climbed out of bed, and headed into the kitchen, starting a fresh pot of coffee. Once it was ready, I poured myself a cup and settled down in front of my canvas, staring at the painting I'd been working on for days. Bits and pieces were starting to come out, but I couldn't even make out what exactly I was painting. I didn't really care, either. For the first time in months, I'd been able to paint anything.

My front door swung open. I looked back to see Carlisle walk in with a huge bouquet of daisies.

"Where the hell did you get those?" I barked, dropping my brush back into my paints.

"They were outside the building with your name on them." He smirked and thrust them at me. "There's a card."

"Who the fuck would send me flowers?" I muttered, placing them on the floor and pulling out the card, which had been opened already. "Did you fucking read this?"

"Yep," he laughed, flopping down on the couch with a lazy grin covering his face. Rolling my eyes, I pulled the card out of the envelope.

**Sorry, I couldn't stop by. I had some things come up, but I missed you, Bella. More than I want to admit to myself. I hope to see you soon, Edward**

Feeling my face heat up, I tucked the card back into the envelope, before placing it back inside the flowers. Sensing Carlisle's eyes on me, I tried to ignore him when I took the flowers into the kitchen and added some water to the vase.

"Oh, yeah, he's different for sure," Carlisle snickered.

"Yeah, I think he is, too," I admitted, mostly to myself.

**Thanks again for all the support! I love reading your reviews, even if I don't always get a chance to reply to them.**


	9. Chapter 9

EPOV

"Jesus fuck," Alice spat, slamming her tray on the bar.

Cocking in an eyebrow in her direction, I silently asked her what was wrong, not that I didn't know. Alice had been in a bad mood ever since Emmett left town a week ago. It wasn't that he had left; it was more that neither of us had heard from him. Not a phone call, not a text, nothing, and it had us both on edge. Emmett never disappeared, and the cryptic way that he had left us both feeling edgy. But Alice was especially close to Emmett, and him not being here, him not calling, had her acting like a bitch.

Not only had Emmett been incognito for a week, but Esme had called in sick for the last two nights due to a migraine, which left us even more shorthanded than normal. Alice was manning the floor all by herself, while Ben and I tried to keep the bar stocked and the drinks flowing. It had been a long week, and appeared to only be getting worse.

"Fucker at table seven keeps palming my ass," she snarled as I placed twelve shots of tequila on her tray. She picked one up and sucked it down, giving me the stink eye when I laughed. "Go ahead and laugh it up, asshole. I'm about to shove my foot up his ass."

"Want me to take him out?" I asked.

Alice sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. I followed her gaze. The asshole in question was laughing so hard that as he leaned his chair back, he fell, which caused him to hit the people at the table behind him. The man, who had been sitting there trying to woo the red-head next to him, grabbed the asshole and dragged him to his feet, slamming his fist into the man's face. All hell broke loose at they started fighting, which set several other drunks off.

"Fuck," I hissed, reaching under the bar and grabbing the metal baseball bat I had hidden.

With Emmett gone, Ben and I had to try to keep the peace since Paul was a cheap ass bastard, who refused to hire anyone to help. Well, anyone who wasn't a young, hot piece of ass, anyway. Climbing onto the bar, I gripped the bat in my hands and swung it around, hitting the metal rafters that drooped from the ceiling. The bang echoed throughout the room, drawing everyone's attention to me.

"Get the fuck out!" I yelled, using the bat to gesture to the door. "We're closing early tonight."

For a moment, everyone just kind of stared at me, like they weren't sure I was serious, but as I brought the bat back up to my shoulder and prepared to take another swing, everyone started standing up, tossing money on the table and walking out of the bar. I stayed on the bar top until the last person walked out.

"Dude, Paul's gonna have your ass," Alice snickered. "That's twice in a week that you've closed early."

"Yeah, well, Paul can kiss my ass," I muttered, jumping off the bar and stowing the bat back underneath. "He's not the one who has to deal with these motherfuckers."

Alice scoffed, but didn't say anything as she turned and started clearing off the tables.

An hour later, Ben, Alice, and I walked out the backdoor for the night. Alice had her phone pressed against her ear, while leaving Emmett yet another heated voice mail about how she was going to kick his ass when she saw him again. Ben muttered something about Angela and a pair of handcuffs, but I didn't question him. I'd learned a long time ago that it was better not to ask him anything about his and Angela's sex life. Less was definitely more when it came to those two.

Instead, I put my helmet on and straddled my bike, walking it backward. Kick starting it, I took off down the alley, automatically finding myself parked outside of Bella's apartment building. I wanted to go inside, knock on every door until I found hers, but I didn't. I couldn't. I hadn't seen her since the night I had taken her to Exploration Peak, though every night I found myself parked outside of her place, wanting nothing more than to see her smile, hear her say my name. Anything. I was scared and weak, afraid of putting myself out there. I'd learned a long time ago that it was better not to take that risk.

So instead of searching for Bella's apartment, I drove away from her building. A few minutes later, I pulled up in front Esme's building. I climbed off my bike and headed inside her building, stopping in front of her apartment door. I had barely knocked when the door was pulled opened and Esme stood in front of me.

"What the fuck happened to you?" I demanded.

Esme flinched, ducking her head. Placing my hand under her chin, I tilted her head back and looked her in the eye. Someone had beaten the crap out of her. Her lip had been busted and was swollen, her eyes were black, and she had a bruise along the left side of her jaw and a cut on across her forehead. But what scared me the most were the handprints wrapped around her neck and on her arms.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed my way into her apartment and looked around. It looked like someone had trashed the place. Her books, pictures, knickknacks had been thrown on the floor. Pages ripped out and glass shattered. Chairs and tables had been upturned and the cushions on her couch had been ripped to shreds.

I turned back to Esme, who was standing by the open door with her arms wrapped around her torso. Walking back to her, I reached around her, ignoring the way she flinched, and shut the door. I wrapped my arm around her and led her over to one of the upturned chairs, using my free hand to set it upright and pushed her into the chair.

"Do you have ice?" I asked.

"No," she whispered.

I nodded as I walked into her kitchen and pulled open the freeze, almost laughing when I saw the bag of frozen peas. _How cliché_, I thought. I grabbed a towel off the counter and wrapped it around the peas as I walked over to Esme. I grabbed another chair and sat in front of her before bringing the frozen peas up to her head, pressing it against the cut.

Esme hissed, but didn't pull away.

"Who did this to you?" I asked.

She didn't reply, not that I was expecting her to. She wouldn't be the first battered woman I'd encountered, and I doubt she'd be the last. "Did they . . . did they do anything else to you?"

Esme's eyes lifted to mine. "He didn't rape me, if that's what you're asking."

"It was," I admitted. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday," she whispered, sliding her hand up and grabbing the peas. She tossed them onto the floor. "Why are you here?"

"I was worried," I told her. "Did you go to the hospital?"

Esme shook her head as she stood up and walked over to her couch, grabbing one of the torn cushions.

"Why not?" Of course, I already knew the answer. It was always the same.

"Because I'm fine," she lied.

"Oh, yeah, because the black eyes are in style right now," I groused.

"Why do you fucking care, Edward?" she seethed.

Her tone should have scared me, but it didn't. I was used to it. I'd spent my entire life being lashed out, why would this be any different.

"I don't know," I said. "But I do."

"Well, you shouldn't," she muttered, dropping her eyes to the floor. "Not about me."

I sighed and placed my hands on my hips. "Look, I understand —"

"Get out," she said, shaking her head. "Just get the fuck out of my apartment, and forget about me. Trust me, you'll be better off."

I walked over to the door and pulled it open. Looking back at her, I shook my head. "Put the peas back on your head. Trust me, it'll help."

"Yeah?" she asked. "How would you know?"

I closed my eyes for a second before I replied. "Life experience."

Before she could say anything more, I walked out of her apartment and closed the door behind me.

—SMTS—

Three more days passed before I saw Esme again. Though she tried to hide it, using a large amount of make-up, the bruises on her face and neck were still noticeable. Alice cocked an eyebrow at her but didn't say anything, which was rare for the woman. Alice normally spoke her mind without caring who she hurt or how it came off, but then again, what did I know?

Esme walked into the back, tying her apron around her waist, and picking up a fresh order pad from the shelf above the desk. Pulling a case of Jose Cuervo from the supply closet, I placed it on the floor and looked over at her.

"Did you use the peas?" I asked.

Esme rolled her eyes. "Yeah."

"Helped, right?"

"Maybe," she muttered before looking over at me.

"Did he come back?" I asked.

Esme sighed. "No. He . . ."

"He what?" I pressed.

"It doesn't matter," she grumbled. "I'm sorry for missing my shifts."

"I don't give a fuck about the shifts," I snarled, causing Esme to look up at me. "Tell me who hit you."

Esme shook her head.

"Goddamn it!" I yelled, causing her to flinch backward. I took a calming breath. "I'm sorry. You can trust me."

Esme turned her eyes up to mine and laughed — fucking laughed. "The last person who said I could trust them, did this to me." She gestured to her face. "Excuse me if I'm done trusting anyone."

She pushed past me and headed back out front. I took a deep breath, trying to keep from screaming. All I'd wanted to do was help, yet I just kept fucking everything up. Story of my fucking life.

Grabbing the case off the floor, I carried it out front, but stopped in the doorway when I saw Emmett and a tall, curvy blond woman. Alice came out of the bathroom as Emmett looked over at me.

"You motherfucking, son of a bitch!" Alice screeched, leaping across the room and attaching herself to Emmett. To some it would appear that she was hugging him, but I knew better. She was pissed, and sure enough, a moment later she unhinged herself from him and brought to his knees with a ninja-like headlock. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been? I've called, texted. I fucking emailed, and you know how much I hate email!"

"Ali-Cat, stop!" Emmett whined, attempting to push the pixie away from him. The blond he was with had stumbled back a few steps and was watching them with wide, fearful eyes.

"Alice," I snapped, drawing her attention to me. I gestured to the blond. "You're fucking freaking her out, so chill already."

Alice growled, but released her hold on Emmett, who scrambled to his feet and moved so that he was standing in front of the blond. "You left me, Em. You fucking left!"

"I know, Ali. I'm sorry," he muttered, reaching behind him and grabbing hold of blondie's hand. "But I had to go."

"Who's the bitch?" Alice grumbled.

I whistled under my breath, expecting the blond to do something, say something, but instead, she turned toward Emmett, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Emmett, on the other hand, glared at Alice, which was a first. "Fuck you, Alice. You don't fucking get to stand there and call her that."

Alice's eyes flew open. It was the first time Emmett had ever spoken to her like that, or anyone that wasn't pawing at his Ali-Cat. "Em."

"Everyone calm down," I said, putting my hands up in the air. From the corner of my eye, I saw Esme and Ben watching us, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I blew out a heavy breath. "Emmett, who's your friend?"

"This is Rose," he gritted, still glaring at Alice.

I smiled, or at least I tried to, as I turned to Rose. "It's nice to meet you, Rose. I'm Edward. This is Alice."

Rose shifted her eyes to mine, but she didn't say anything. Her eyes were full of so many emotions: fear, sorrow, grief, anger, hatred.

I cleared my throat and looked at Alice, tilting my head toward Rose.

Alice rolled her eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to call you a bitch."

Again, Rose didn't say anything. I shifted my eyes to Emmett, cocking an eyebrow. He sighed. "She's, um . . . I told her she could sit at the bar while I worked tonight. I don't . . . I don't want to leave her by herself."

I nodded and looked at Rose. "Okay. Just, um . . ." I gestured to the far end of the bar, closest to where Emmett would be working. It was the same stool that Bella had sat on the night she and Carlisle came to the bar. I shook my head. "Sit there. If you need anything, just wave of something, okay?"

Rose nodded, before looking up at Emmett.

"It'll be okay," he whispered. "They won't hurt you, Rosie. They're good people."

Though I could tell Rose wasn't convinced, she turned and walked over to the bar, sitting down very stiff-like. I looked back at Emmett, who had his hand tangled in his hair. "Dude, where the fuck have you been?" I snarled, closing the distance between him, me, and Alice. "You just took off for ten days without a word?"

Emmett swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry. Rose needed me, and . . . I'm should have called, but I couldn't, okay? But I'm back now."

"You just . . ." Alice trailed off and shook her head before she walked away.

"Ali-Cat," Emmett called, but Alice simply flipped him off and went to prepare her tables. "Fuck."

"I don't know what you expected," I muttered. "You know how much she depends on you, Em."

He lifted his eyes to mine. "Everyone depends on me, Edward. Everyone," he seethed. "But when I need . . ." he waved his hands in the air. "Just fuck it. Being used is nothing new to me."

With a look back at Rose, and then one more to Alice, Emmett turned and walked over to the door, standing with his arms folded across his chest. As I walked back behind the bar, I thought of Bella.


	10. Chapter 10

BPOV

Eleven Days. Eleven fucking days had passed since I'd seen or heard from Edward. Not since the night he'd taken me up to Exploration Peak, or the evening Carlisle found a bouquet of flowers outside of our building with my name on it. Everything felt out of control. Edward was in every thought I had, whether I was sleeping or awake, and I certainly spent more time awake than sleeping.

"Hey," Carlisle murmured, coming up to stand behind me. He placed his hands on my hips and leaned his chin on my shoulder. "Doesn't it help to paint if you have the brush in your hand?"

"That's the rumor," I groused, grabbing his hand and pulling it around my body, hugging his arm. Every morning I climbed out of bed, usually detangling myself from Carlisle's arms and settled on my stool and stared at the canvas sitting on the rackety easel in my living room. The bright colors mocked me, begged me to paint more, but I couldn't seem to get my fingers to touch my brush, get the picture inside of my head to become clear enough for me to paint.

Once again I'd lost my muse.

"I'm worried about you," he whispered.

I nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Tell me you're okay," he urged.

"I'm okay," I lied.

Carlisle sighed, turning his head and pressing his lips to the side of my neck. "I have to go to the clinic. Are you working today?"

"Yeah," I scoffed. "Every day until Mr. Call hires someone else to run the place or fires me. Probably that latter."

"That fucker won't fire you, Bella," he quipped. "He wants to fuck you too much."

I cringed. Carlisle was convinced that Mr. Call had a thing for me and that's why he put up with my shit. Maybe he was right, or maybe he just knew that nobody else would keep his place above water.

"Okay, I'm leaving," he sighed, kissing my neck again. "I'll see you later?"

"Be careful," I whispered, shifting my eyes to his. "Please?"

Carlisle nodded. "I will. Love you, honey."

"I love you, too."

I watched as Carlisle walked out of my apartment, closing the door behind him. My eyes fluttered to a close as I released the breath I'd been holding. Carlisle was the only person I had right now, especially since Edward had seemed to decide I wasn't worthy of him anymore. I shouldn't have been surprised. I'd taken a chance and let him into my life. Just like everyone I've ever encountered, he'd thrown me away. I really was worthless.

Doing my best to shake all thoughts of Edward out of my head, I climbed off my stool and walked into my bedroom, shrugging off the T-shirt I was wearing and walking into the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would help clear my head.

Of course it didn't.

I showered, dressed in my uniform for work, and made my way to the diner with Edward on my mind. Why had he come barging into my life, only to leave without a word? It was cruel and mean, yet I still wanted to see him, to talk to him. It was crazy, but I felt this need for him that scared me. Edward didn't know me, not the real me. If he did, he'd leave me, too.

When I walked into the diner, I saw Mr. Call perched up behind the register while Jasper was in the kitchen, trying to prepare for the breakfast rush that would be coming in within the next fifteen minutes.

"Nice of you to show up, Isabella," Mr. Call snarled.

I rolled my eyes and waved him off. He could be an asshole all he wanted, but he needed me to run this shithole. Once I'd stowed my bag in my locker and tied my apron around my waist, I walked back out front, stopping in front of the coffee pots. The empty coffee pots that had been left on the burner so that the few drops of coffee that had remained was burned.

Sighing, I turned and glared at Mr. Call. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to make a pot of coffee."

"Probably not," he admitted, pushing away from the register and shoving a white envelope in his back pocket. "But then again, that's why I pay you so well."

I snorted, but didn't say anything. It wouldn't do any good. Instead, I started four fresh pots of coffee: two regular and two decaf. A moment later, I heard the door the diner close and saw that Mr. Call had left. Just before the rush, as always.

"Hey, Bella," Jasper muttered, carrying a tray of freshly cleaned coffee mugs and placing them under the counter. "These were kind of heavy, so I thought I'd bring them up for you."

"Oh, thanks."

Jasper simply nodded before walking back into the kitchen. He was quiet, sometimes too quiet. Though I knew that he'd been through Hell and had the scars to prove it, I liked him. He was skittish and nervous, but then again, I was untrusting and closed off. Which, of course, was probably why Edward hadn't been around. It was clear to me that he couldn't deal with my issues. Better that I learned that now rather than after I got too attached, right?

The morning was busier than usual. Sam brought Emily and the girls in for breakfast. When Bridget and Cassie saw me standing behind the counter, they squealed and scrambled onto two of the stools on the other side of the counter and tried to climb onto the countertop, but Sam was quick to wrap his arm around them both and stopped them.

"You can't go back there, girls," he chided, but his tone was soft and kind.

He was such a good father, the kind of father his girls deserved. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Cassie and Bridget were lucky to have him and Emily. They loved their girls more than life, and would never do anything to hurt them. Not like other parents who expected more than their children could give them, and when they failed, they made an example of said child, making sure they knew what a disappointment they had been.

"Bella," Sam called.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you okay?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I nodded. "Yeah, sit wherever you want. You want your usual drinks?"

"Yes, please," Emily answered, placing her hand on Cassie's back and smiling.

A couple minutes later, I placed two cups of coffee and two glasses of chocolate milk on the table. Cassie and Bridget cheered as their parents passed the milk over to them.

"So," Sam said, shifting his eyes up to mine. "Has that guy been back here?"

My shoulders tensed as the door to the diner opened again. I looked back, watching as the old man shuffled inside and walked over to his booth. There was something off with the way he walked. He had a limp, and he almost seemed to be dragging his left leg a little.

"Bella," Sam called again, drawing my attention to him. "Has that asshole been here again?"

"Samuel Uley," Emily hissed, tilting her head toward their daughters, who were giggling at their father's use of a curse word.

"Sorry," Sam muttered, but looked at me expectantly. "Has he?"

"No," I told him, and I wasn't lying. Red hadn't shown his face here once since Sam threatened to make him eat his food off the floor.

"Good," Sam said, placing his arm on the back of the booth. Bridgett leaned against him, grabbing his arm and dragging it down around her body. "We'll take our usual."

I nodded and walked back around the corner, turning both their orders in as well as the old man's. Jasper grabbed them and gave me a nod, indicating that he'd get them out as soon as possible. He knew just how cranky the old man could get when his food was late, and always made a point of pushing his order to the top of his list.

Grabbing a clean cup from under the counter and a fresh pot of coffee, I walked over to the old man's table, setting the cup on the table before filling it. Normally, he'd reach for the sugar with his left hand, but today, he used his right, having to turn his body to the side in order to touch it. Something was seriously wrong.

I slid into the booth across from him and grabbed the sugar before he could. He snapped his eyes over to me, but didn't say anything as I poured more sugar into his cup than was healthy and sat it back on the table. Then, I grabbed his spoon and stirred it.

"You're worrying me, old man," I whispered, knowing full well that he could hear me.

He grunted, but didn't say anything as he picked up his cup — with his right hand — and took a tentative sip.

"Is it okay?" I asked.

He simply nodded and took one more drink before placing it on the table. The left side of his mouth dropped more than it had the day before and his eyes were dark and heavy. I sighed and leaned forward, placing my elbow on the table.

"You don't look good," I murmured.

Still he didn't say anything, just stared at me. Jasper hollered from the kitchen, letting me know there were orders ready to go out. With another sigh, I slid out of the booth and walked behind the counter, filling my tray with as many plates as I could. I stopped at Sam and Emily's table first, placing their plates in front of them.

"Need anything else?" I asked.

"No, thanks, Bella," Emily said with a smile before she started cutting Cassie's pancakes.

"Let me know," I murmured, before carrying the old man's plate over to him and setting it down in front of him. Using his right hand, he grabbed it and turned it in a circle, just like always. I sighed again and leaned against the booth, watching him. "Did someone hurt you?"

The old man shifted his eyes up to mine, a frown tugging at his lips. Yet, the left side never moved. "Leave me alone," he slurred.

"You can trust me," I whispered, reaching for his arm, but he pulled away.

"Leave me alone, girl," he slurred again, his words sounding harsher than I'd ever heard from him before.

"Fine," I whimpered, unsure why he affected me so much. "Just . . . just do me a favor and hang out here for a while, okay? I'll buy you lunch. Just don't leave."

The old man's eyes softened, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his attention back to his food. Knowing I wasn't going to get anything more from him, I left him sitting there, hoping that he'd listen to me and stay.

Slowly, the diner began to empty. Sam and Emily paid for their breakfast and left with the girls giggling about going to the park. Yet, the old man never moved. He finished his food, refused another cup of coffee, but didn't move. He worried me. There was something wrong with him, but I didn't know how to get him to trust me and knew that he'd never go to the hospital with me, so instead, I called the only person I could think of for help: Carlisle. However, my call went to his voicemail, so I left him a message and then a text, begging him to come to the diner as soon as possible.

Just after one, Jasper came chugging out of the back with several pies and two large plates of cookies.

"Wow," I said, looking at them as he placed them on the counter and turned toward the display case. "Those look good."

"Thanks," he muttered. "I know you normally make them, but I thought I'd give it a go."

"Apple, peach, and . . . is that blueberry?" I asked, gesturing to each pie.

Jasper smiled. "Yeah. I know most people don't like blueberry pie, but I thought it would be nice."

"It smells delicious," I commented, placing my hand on his shoulder. Jasper tensed, but didn't shrug my hand off. "Do you like to bake?"

Jasper shrugged his shoulders. "I guess."

Before I could say anything else, the door to the diner opened. I looked over, expecting to see Carlisle coming in, but instead, saw Emmett walk in with a tall, curvy blond in his arms. Her hair had been pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head, and she was turned toward Emmett, almost like he was her anchor. Emmett shifted his eyes to mine, and for the first time since I'd met him, he wasn't smiling. His eyes were full of worry and heartache, something I knew all too well.

"Hey, Bella," he murmured, nearly dragging the blond up to the counter.

"Hey, Emmett," I replied as they sat down. "Can I get you something? Maybe some coffee? We have fresh pie."

He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, and turned to the woman sitting next to him. "Want some coffee?"

She simply nodded.

Emmett turned his attention back to me. "Two coffees, please."

Grabbing two cups from under the counter, I placed them in front of Emmett and the woman. I filled their cups before starting a fresh pot. When I turned back to Emmett and the woman, he was leaning toward her, one arm still wrapped around her while the other was cupping her face. He was whispering to her, and while I couldn't hear what he said, I heard words like, "second chance" and "fresh start." Catching my eyes, he cleared his throat and leaned away from her, but kept his arm wrapped around her.

"So, um, Bella," he started, sounding nervous. This wasn't the same fun, loud, flirty Emmett, who called me sweetheart and winked at me the first time we met. This person, this man, was hurting. "I was wondering . . . I mean, we were wondering," he said, gesturing to the woman next to him. "Do you, um . . ." He blew out a deep breath. "I was wondering if you have any job openings here."

"You want to work in this dump?" I asked.

"No," he said, looking at the woman next to him.

And I understood. Biting my bottom lip, I looked to the woman next to him. "I'm Bella."

For a moment, I thought she couldn't speak, but then Emmett tightened her arm around her, and she whispered. "Rose. I'm Rose."

"Nice to meet you," I said, shifting my eyes over my shoulder and looking at the old man. He was staring out the window, while drumming his fingers on the table. I sighed and turned back to Rose and Emmett. "Give me a second, okay?"

They nodded as I turned and walked over to his table, sliding into booth across from him. His attention shifted to me and just stared. "Are you ready for lunch?" I asked. He shrugged his shoulders. "Do you like vegetable soup?"

Again, another shrug.

I sighed. "How about I bring you a cup of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich? Then, if you're still hungry, I'll get you some pie. Jasper, our new cook, made a delicious blueberry pie that I am dying to try. Does that sound okay?"

"Ice cream," he groused, shifting his eyes out the window.

"You want ice cream with your pie?" I asked, smiling when he nodded. "Okay, give me a few minutes."

I slid out of the booth and walked behind the counter, scribbling down his order and passing it back to Jasper, who smiled and said, "I'll have it right out."

"Thanks," I murmured, turning back to Emmett and Rose. They had finished their coffee and were wrapped around each other. Placing my hands on the counter, I sighed. "This job sucks. Surely there are better places for you to work."

Though I was addressing Rose, Emmett was the one who replied. "She doesn't have any work experience. Nothing. And the casinos are full of assholes, and the bars . . . Well, trust me, that's the last place she needs to be."

I nodded. "Well, I mean, we are looking for a few people." Rose shifted her eyes to mine, and I felt my heart clench. Her eyes, much like Emmett's were full of pain and anger. "Can you start immediately?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Jasper called out from the kitchen. "Order's up, Bella."

"Okay," I told him before turning back to Rose and Emmett. "One more second, all right?"

They nodded, so I turned and loaded my tray with the old man's soup and grilled cheese, adding a glass of ice water. Carrying it over to his table, I placed them in front of him, smiling when he grabbed his bowl of soup, turned it in a slow circle, and then did the same with the plate his grille cheese sat on. He picked up his soup and dipped it into his bowl, scooping a small spoonful of soup and brought it to his mouth, slurping loudly.

I laughed softly. "Is it good?"

"Needs salt," he groused, but didn't make a move to grab the shaker.

I reached across the table and grabbed it, pouring just a bit into his soup. "Better?" He took another bit, and then nodded. "Good. Eat all of it and then I'll bring your pie and ice cream."

The old man grunted out an "okay" before he turned back to his food and started slurping his soup. I tucked my tray under my arm and walked back around the counter to Emmett and Rose, who had been watching me with an odd expression on her face. Almost like she'd never seen someone be kind to another. Then, again, maybe she hadn't.

"He's a regular. Usually he's just here for breakfast, but I'm worried about him. Something wrong so I asked him to stay, offered to buy him lunch," I explained.

"Oh," she murmured.

"If you want the job, you can start tomorrow," I told her. "But you have to understand that you're going to have to deal with people, and not all of them are going to be nice. Our mornings are insane, and the dinner rush is even worse."

Rose shifted her eyes to Emmett, giving him a pleading look. He sighed, tightening his arm around her waist and pressing his lips against her forehead. "You can do this, honey. Bella's good people, she won't hurt you."

Emmett's faith in me was touching, but he didn't know me, the real me. If he did, he would know there was nothing good about me.

"Okay," Rose whispered, looking back at me. "I'll take it."

"Good." I smiled, though I knew it didn't come off as being real. I got her settled with an application. While she and Emmett filled it out, I pulled one of the blueberry pies from the pie case and cut a slice out for the old man. But when I saw Emmett eyeing it, I cut him and Rose each a slice, and then added a scoop of ice cream to all three.

When I placed his plate in front of him, Emmett laughed, and for a brief moment, I saw the same light-hearted man who had charged his way into the dinner with Alice on his back. But just as quick as the look sprang up on his face, it was gone.

I placed the old man's pie and ice cream in front of him before sliding into the booth across from him again. He didn't say anything as he pulled his spoon from his soup bowl and scooped up a large bit of ice cream. As he lifted it to his mouth, the door to the diner opened. I looked over, sighing in relief when I saw Carlisle rush in. He looked around the diner, finally finding me sitting in front of the old man.

"Are you okay?" he asked, hurrying over to me and grabbing my arms, yanking me from the booth. I bit back the cry of pain, knowing that he'd never forgive himself if he thought he'd hurt me. Carlisle's eyes drifted down my body, searching for any sign that I'd been injured.

"I'm fine," I whispered, drawing his eyes up to mine. "Sorry, I should have been clearer." Then, I turned and faced the old man, who had abandoned his pie and ice cream. "There's something wrong with him."

"What?" Carlisle asked.

I looked at him, sighing. "He comes in everyday, but I've noticed that the left side of his face is droopy, and he had a limp when he walks. I don't know if someone hurt him, or what, but there is something wrong with him."

"You called me away from the clinic because one of your customers looks wrong?"

I nodded, expecting Carlisle to yell at me.

However, he didn't. Instead, he laughed and pulled me into his arms. "Goddamn it, Bella. You scared me."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, sliding my arms up around him and fisting the back of his scrubs in my fingers. "I can't explain why, but he . . . he's important. Just talk to him. Please?"

"Hey," Carlisle said, tilting my head up so I was looking him in the eye. "All you had to do was ask."

I nodded, and stepped out of his way, letting him slid into the booth so that he was sitting across from the old man. I turned to walk away, but the old man reached out and grabbed my arm with his right hand.

When I looked back at him, he released his hold on me, but muttered one word: "Stay."

"Okay, old man," I said, sliding into the booth next to him.

As Carlisle began his assessment, Jasper wandered into the front of the diner, but stayed in the doorway of the kitchen. Emmett and Rose had eaten their pie and ice cream, and were watching us, waiting to see what happened with the old man.

After asking him a dozen questions, most of which the old man deflected — like his name, age, where he lived, or how'd he had been feeling — Carlisle pulled out a small penlight and leaned across the table, flashing it in his eyes.

"We need to get you to the hospital," Carlisle said, sliding out of the booth and digging his cell phone out of his pocket. "Run some tests."

"I ain't going," the old man snarled, pushing me out of the booth. I hit the floor hard, crying out. The old man scurried out of the booth, stepping over me and making a move for the door. However, Carlisle reached out and grabbed his arm. The old man threw his arm back, striking Carlisle across the face with enough force to send him back against the table. The old man looked down at me before he shook his head and stumbled toward the door. I chased after him, but by the time I got outside, the old man was gone.

**I know, I know. I'm worried about the old man, too. Thank you for the reviews. **


	11. Chapter 11

EPOV

I was a douche. Fourteen days had passed since I had last spoken to Bella. I wanted to. More than anything in the world I wanted to hear her voice, to hold her in my arms, and confess my feelings. The problem was, I didn't know how I felt. I liked her. I wanted to be around her, but should I? Or should she want to be around me? No, she shouldn't. I wasn't worth someone as amazing and beautiful as her. I knew it, I accepted it, but my heart argued that Bella was exactly the person I needed in my life.

"Motherfucking heart," I muttered, pushing away from my piano and walking into my bedroom, falling onto my bed. Every afternoon when I crawled out of bed, I found myself sitting in front of my piano, willing the notes to pour from my fingers, but no. They refused. I'd lost my inspiration. Or, more like I'd pushed my inspiration away. So, yeah, I was a douche.

Scrambling off my bed, I stripped off my clothes and walked into my small, danky bathroom. There was barely enough room for the shower, toilet, and small sink. Turning on the shower, I waited for the water to warm up. While I waited for the water to warm up, my eyes shifted to my reflection in the small mirror, automatically drifting to the group of thin scars wrapped around the right side of my torso. Five in total, I hated them, hated the memories they brought back. The ones I'd run away from when I left Chicago; the ones that _he _had given me. I shuddered at the thought of him, the way he loomed over us, screaming and full of rage. He'd made it clear a long time ago that I was the blame for every problem in his life, especially when it came to her.

"Stop thinking about them," I muttered to myself as I pushed away from the sink and stepped into the shower. The water was barely warm, but it was as good as it was going to get. The super didn't give a fuck about maintenance, reminding me every time I complained that I got what I paid for. Tell me something I didn't know. My life had been full of getting what I deserved.

Half an hour later, I found myself sitting on my bike outside of the diner. _Her _diner. I could see Bella behind the counter with Emmett's friend Rose. He'd mentioned that she'd started working there. She came to the bar every night, and every night she sat at the end of the bar, refused to speak to anyone with a look of utter fear on her face. Emmett watched her all the time. It was the first time I'd ever seen him so . . . protective of someone. Even more than he was with Alice and that said a lot because Alice was his family. Which, of course, made Alice more of a bitch than usual. She'd refused to speak to Emmett, refused to listen to his heartfelt apologies. Though, Alice didn't take any of her anger out on Rose. She was friendly. Well, friendly for Alice. She didn't call her a bitch to her face at least.

Everything felt fucked up and out of control.

Inside the diner, Bella was walking from table to table refilling everyone's coffee. There was smile on her face, though I could tell something was off on it. Had someone hurt her? My heart clenched in my chest at the thought of someone hurting her. Suddenly, Bella stopped at a table and looked right at me. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that she could see me.

Bella said something to the people sitting at the table before turning around and walking over to the counter, placing the pot of coffee down, and walking outside. I should have left. My mind screamed at me to leave, but I couldn't. I needed her, and it scared the shit out of me.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, letting the door shut behind her. Her voice was low and dry, monotone. And I didn't like it.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Goddamn it, Edward!" she yelled, drawing the attention of several people as they walked along the street. She took the ten steps from the door to the diner to where I was still straddling my bike. "Why are you here?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Oh, well, that's just great then," she snarked. "You don't know."

"I wanted to see you," I told her.

"Yeah?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. She was beautiful. "Two weeks without a word from you, but you wanted to see me, right? You made me . . . and sent me . . ." Bella threw her hands in the air. "Ugh! You're so infuriating."

"I'm sorry," I muttered, unsure of what else to say.

"Sorry? Oh, well, okay, then." She paused, releasing a heavy breath. "So instead of coming inside, you sit out here and stalk me? That makes me feel so much better."

I frowned. "I've been busy."

She snorted. "This is insane," she murmured to herself. "I shouldn't even be upset. It's not like I meant anything to you."

"Is that what you think?" I asked, causing her to look up at me. "That you don't mean anything to me?"

Her cheeks turned bright pink, and it was clear that she hadn't meant to voice that thought. "Do I?" she asked.

I nodded, because whether I liked it or not, Bella Swan meant everything to me.

"Oh," she whispered, shifting her eyes to the ground.

Before either of us could say anything, the door to the diner opened and the blond guy from the last time I was here stuck his head out. "Mr. Call is on the phone."

Bella nodded and looked back at me. "Gotta go. Duty calls."

"Oh, okay," I murmured. "Can I . . . can I see you tonight? You could come to the bar."

Her face crumbled. "I don't know. That place . . ."

"Well, can I come to your place when I get off?" I pleaded.

"I have to work early in the morning," she said, clearing her throat.

I nodded.

"Maybe . . . maybe if you come by right after the bar closes, we could talk or something," she whispered, shifting her eyes up to mine. "If you want to, I mean."

"I do," I blubbered, causing her to smile. "Which apartment is yours?"

"2B," she said as the blond guy opened the door again..

"Bella, he's getting pissed," he called.

"I'll be right there, Jasper," she replied, rolling her eyes and looking back at me. "Sorry, I really do have to go."

"Yeah, me too," I lied. I still had an hour before I needed to be at work. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Bella nodded, her cheeks turning pink before she turned and walked into the diner. Yeah, I watched her ass. I was a pervert, but she was exquisite and amazing. I wanted her to be mine, but I didn't deserve her. She was too good for me. Jump starting my bike, I walked my bike out of my parking space, before driving out of the parking lot and heading to the bar. I couldn't wait for my shift to be over.

—SMTS—

The bar was ridiculously busy tonight. Esme had stumbled in a few minutes before we opened the doors. While the bruises and swelling around her eyes and on her face and neck were fading, they were still noticeable, even with the make-up she used to cover them up. She kept her eyes away from mine as she muttered an apology for being late, and I didn't push her. I had a feeling she had enough of that shit in her life.

As had become usual, Rose was sitting at the end of the bar. She had her back against the wall and her arms up around her in a protective manor. Her eyes darted around the room, almost like she was expecting someone to jump out of the shadows and attack her. Maybe she was. Her eyes landed on mine, and she ducked her head, trying to hide inside herself even more. She'd never spoken to me, yet I felt the need to protect her, too.

"Edward, I need another round of shots for the assholes in the pit," Alice snarled, pulling my attention away from Rose.

"How many rounds is this?" I asked, setting up the shot glasses before grabbing the vodka and filling each one.

"Six," she grumbled. "They're giving me a fucking headache."

"Touching?" I lifted an eyebrow.

"No, just being extremely loud," she muttered. "Apparently all of them think they are fucking rock stars and feel the need to belt out every song they've ever heard. Out of tune, by the way. It's annoying as fuck."

"I'd imagine so," I snickered. "Last round, okay. Bar closes in fifteen, they need to get cabs ordered."

"I know, I know," she said, waving me off before she picked up her tray and made her way through the throng of people.

Shaking my head, I looked over at Esme. She was standing at one of the tables in the back, laughing with the women sitting there. It was the first time I'd seen her so . . . carefree. It was nice. But in that moment, two things happened. First, she looked over at me, her smile growing, and second, a commotion at the door drew everyone's attention. Emmett had a guy slammed against the wall, but that wasn't what concerned me. No, it was the knife in the asshole's hand.

Time seemed to slow down as the asshole broke free of Emmett, swiping him in the side with the knife and pushed him backward. I could hear everyone screaming, but before I could even place my hand on the bar, the asshole was rushing across the room, straight for Esme.

"No!" she cried, turning to run from the attacker, but because she was in the back of the bar, and there were a ton of people in the way, she didn't have very far to go. The man was within feet of her.

I leapt over the bar, pushing people out of my way. Just as he lunged for her, I tackled him to the ground. He threw his arm back, his elbow catching me in the jaw and pushing me off of him. Spinning, he sprang at me this time, but I was able to grab his arm, and throw him to the ground. Dropping so that I was holding him down, I slammed my fist into his face over and over, hearing the bones in his nose crunch under my fist.

"Edward, man, stop!" Ben yelled, grabbing my arm before I could hit the asshole again. He dragged me back, and I shifted my eyes up, looking at Esme, who was plastered against the wall with a look of terror on her face.

I pushed Ben off of me and scrambled to my feet, rushing over to her. "Are you okay?"

"What?" she stammered.

"Are you okay?" I asked again, bringing my hand up to her cheek. However, Esme flinched away from me. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

"I . . . I . . ." Esme began to sob and fell against my chest, burying her face. I sighed as I brought my hand up to the back of her head and wrapped an arm around her, holding her. It was then that I saw the scraps and blood on my hands.

A few minutes later the police and an ambulance arrived. Everyone gave their statements, including how the asshole had cut Emmett, went after Esme, and how I'd defended myself and them.

"Do you know why he came after you, Miss Platt?" one of the officers asked.

Esme shifted her eyes to mine before she shook her head, and I knew she was lying.

"You've never seen him before?" the officer pressed.

"No," she whispered.

He nodded, sharing a look with his partner, but opted not to push it any further. After almost two hours, they left and we closed up the bar.

"Hey, man, you okay?" I asked, sitting at the bar next to Emmett, who had one hand pressed against the bandage on his side. He'd refused to go to the hospital, saying that the cut wasn't more than a flesh wound. He needed stitches, but nobody was going to force him to go in.

"Nothing a few drinks won't help," he groused, chucking down the last of his beer. Rose had moved from her corner and was sitting on the stool next to him, her arms wrapped around him and her head on his shoulder. He turned to her, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "You ready to go home?"

Rose nodded and stood up. However, unlike every other night that she'd been inside the bar, she looked up at me and said, "Thanks."

I nodded. "You're welcome, I guess. Make sure he doesn't do something stupid like bleed to death tonight, okay?"

Her lips twitched, and I swear she almost smiled. "I'll try not to."

"I can take care of myself," Emmett grumbled, before reaching over the bar. However, he winced and pulled his arm back, his hand tightening on the bandage. "Give me a couple more."

Though I knew I shouldn't, I pulled out three more bottles of beer from the cooler and handed them to him. "Thanks," he muttered, grabbing them and tucking them in the crook of his arm, he wrapped his other arm around Rose and shifted his eyes to Alice, who'd been oddly quiet. "You coming, Ali-Cat?"

"You want me to?" she whispered, shifting her eyes from him to Rose.

"Um, yeah," he scoffed. "You owe me pie."

"I don't owe you shit," Alice scoffed, hoping off the stool and following him and Rose out of the bar.

"Well, I guess I should go home, too," Ben said with a sigh and standing up. "She's off tonight, so . . ." He shuddered. "Later."

"See ya," I said, and then it was just me and Esme. She was standing in front of the juke-box, flipping through tracks. "You okay?"

She looked over her shoulder at me. "No."

"Is he the one who hurt you?" I asked.

Esme's eyes widen as she murmured, "No."

"You're a shitty liar," I scoffed, placing my hands on the bar top. "Why are you covering for him?"

"I'm not," she lied.

I nodded, and tossed my towel under the bar before I walked over to the front door, making sure it was locked. Then, I turned to Esme, holding my hand out to her. "Come on, I'll give you a ride home."

"I can walk," she said.

"Yes, I've seen you do it, but I am giving you a ride home," I told her.

Esme huffed, folding her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not a charity project."

"Never said you were," I snapped, holding my hand out to her again. "But, for some reason, I care about you, Esme, and I really don't want you to get hurt again, so stop being a bitch and let me drive you home."

She turned her head away from me, but slipped her hand in mine. Knowing I wasn't going to get anything more from her, I led her through the back and locked up the bar. Esme muttered something under her breath about me being a pain in her ass before taking my spare helmet and climbing onto the bike behind me. Her arms wrapped around my waist and I took off down the alley, leaving every unanswered question I had behind us.

I pulled up in front of her building, and she climbed off. "I know you don't trust me, Esme, but I am a friend."

"Yeah?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Maybe I don't need any friends," she quipped.

"Maybe not," I told her, trying to stifle the hurt. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to keep trying."

"I can tell." Esme turned and walked into her building, letting the door close behind her.

Sighing, I stowed my extra helmet before heading to Bella's apartment. I'd already had a long night, and I had a feeling it was only going to get longer.

**Thank you for all the reviews. So, yeah, Bella's damaged, Esme's kind of a bitch, and Rose is skittish, Alice is . . . well, a bitch. And Emmett, Jasper, Carlisle, and Edward are kind of closed off. I know these characters are different, but I wanted something . . . real.**


	12. Chapter 12

BPOV

Turning and leaving Edward straddling his bike was hard. Even though I was pissed that he hadn't been around, that he had pulled me into his life only to ignore me for the last two weeks, I needed to see him. Just the sight of him was enough to cause my heart to flutter, and the sound of his voice had me reeling inside. I was terrified about what these feelings meant. People like me didn't deserve happiness.

With a shake of my head, I walked into the dinner. Rose was sitting at the end of the counter with the pan of clean silverware and a stack of napkins in front of her. She'd only been working at the diner for a couple of days, and though she was timid and unsure around the customers, she had really made the transition easily.

"Sorry," I told Jasper, walking behind the cashier's podium and taking the phone from him—a phone with a very short cord because God forbid we should use a cordless phone to make it easier.

"S'okay," he mumbled, shuffling back into the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, I brought the phone up to my ear. "Mr. Call."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Isabella," he spat. "What took you so long?"

"I was busy," I told him, which wasn't a lie. I had been refilling everyone's coffee before I went out to talk to Edward.

He snorted. "Busy? That dump is never busy."

I rolled my eyes. He had no idea the type of traffic we had come in and out of this place, seeing as he never stayed around long enough to help. No, all Mr. Call cared about was how much money this dump cost him.

"Yeah, well, today we've been busy, so why don't you tell me what was so important that you needed to interrupt my work," I quipped.

"You know, Isabella, I am in fact your boss. It wouldn't kill you to show me some respect," he grumbled.

Instead of replying, I simply sighed. I wasn't going to let him pull me into this crazy game of how lucky I was that he let me work for him. There were better jobs in Vegas. Maybe not great jobs, but better paying at least.

"I was going over the paperwork for the new girl. What's her name? Lilly? Iris?"

"Rose," I muttered, causing her to look over at me. I smiled and gestured to the phone. She frowned but nodded.

"Yeah, I knew it was a flowery name," he groused.

"What about her paperwork?" I asked, trying to get him to stay focused.

"Oh, yeah. She won't work out so I need you to fire her." He said this so nonchalantly, like he was telling me to take out the trash.

"What?" I yelled, causing everyone — including Rose and Jasper — to look over at me.

"You heard me. Fire her," he said.

"No," I snarled, turning so that I was facing the wall. "There is no reason to fire her."

"She shouldn't have been hired in the first place," he spat. "She has no experience, no references. I checked out her past address, and it was fake. Fire her, Isabella."

I looked over my shoulder at Rose, who was making her way from table to table and refilling everyone's coffee. "No. You wanted me to run this place, so let me run it my way."

"She's a liability, one that I can no longer afford thanks to my son's carelessness," he grumbled.

"No, I won't do it. If you want her gone, then you're going to have to come here yourself and do it. But know this, if you do fire her, I'll quit."

Mr. Call sighed. "Why should I keep her? Give me one good reason why I should keep her."

I closed my eyes and heard myself whisper, "Because everyone deserves a chance to start fresh. I take full responsibility for her, but I will not turn my back on her. You owe me this, Mr. Call."

"I don't owe you anything, girl," he muttered, but when I sighed, he groaned. "Fine, but if this comes back to bite me on the ass, you're done. Am I clear?"

"Yep," I muttered.

"I'm going to regret this," he whined before hanging up the phone.

Taking another deep breath, I placed the receiver back on the cradle and turned around, finding Rose standing on the other side of the podium. Her eyes were wide and full of fear, a fear that I understood all too well. I saw the same look in my eyes every time I looked in the mirror.

"I'm being fired, right?" she whispered.

"No," I told her. Her eyes widened. "He was calling about one of our late shifters. She's unreliable, and . . ."

Rose nodded. "I didn't realize there was someone else working here with my name."

"Yeah, like I said, she's unreliable so we don't really schedule her much." I forced out a laugh, knowing that she wasn't buying the load of bullshit I was spouting. But I couldn't tell her the truth. Rose had left whatever Hell she was in and came to Vegas so she could start again. Just like I had. "Anyway, you're doing a great job. Really, just don't worry."

"Okay," she said, but I could tell she still wasn't sure. Turning, she walked back over to the counter and began rolling silverware once again.

I walked into the kitchen, straight through to the freezer, and leaned against the chilly wall, hoping that my gut was right about Rose and she was worth taking a chance on.

—SMTS—

After my shift at the diner was over, I stopped by a small market on my way to work and bought some food. I thought maybe Edward might be hungry, and well, I needed something to do with my time other than sit around my apartment. I was nervous about him coming over, and I wasn't sure why. Sure, Edward had expressed some interest in me, but at the same time, he hadn't spoken a word to me in two weeks. Was he just playing a game? Or did he really mean it when he said I was worth it?

Carlisle was sprawled out on my couch when I got to my home. Rolling my eyes, I dropped my bags on the floor and jumped on him, causing him to groan.

"Fuck, Bella," he gasped, pushing me off of him. "You trying to kill me?"

"No," I laughed. "Just thinking about all the times that you've sat on me when I was sleeping. Isn't a fun way to wake up, is it?"

"No," he muttered, sitting up and placing his elbows on his knees and dragging his fingers through his hair.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked, causing him to look over at me as I slipped up on the couch next to him.

"Nothing," he lied. "Just tired."

I nodded. "You hungry? I was going to make some dinner for . . . myself."

"You were making dinner for yourself?" he asked, shifting his eyes over to the three bags of groceries I'd left on the floor. "That's a lot of food for just one person."

"Yep, which is why I'm offering you some, but if you'd rather not have any of my famous green chili enchiladas, then you don't have to eat them. I have plenty of ramen noodles in the cupboard."

"No, no, I don't want to be rude," he snickered.

I rolled my eyes as I stood up and grabbed the groceries and walked into the kitchen. Carlisle followed me, but didn't say anything as I unloaded everything and began to prepare the dish, though I could feel him watching me. Once I had the two pans of enchiladas in the oven, I walked past him and into my bedroom, stripping off my uniform and hanging it on the back of my door. Usually, I'd wear a pair of ratty sweat pants and a paint-stained T-shirt, but with the possibility of Edward coming over, I decided to go with a pair of jeans and a tank top.

"Wow, you look nice," Carlisle said when I walked out of my bedroom. He was back to lying across my couch, looking like he owned the place. "You didn't have to dress up for me, honey."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I didn't."

"Then who did you dress up for?" he asked.

Shifting my eyes to him, I bit my lip. "Edward might be coming by later."

Carlisle's eyes flew open and he sat up. "Are you serious?"

I nodded. "He, um, came to the diner today. I might have confronted him about disappearing for two weeks."

"Good," he muttered. Carlisle hadn't been happy that Edward hadn't been around, either. "So, what'd he say?"

"Nothing really," I admitted. "Just that he'd been busy. He asked me to come to the bar, but I . . ." I trailed off as I thought about the last time I had been inside there, my hand automatically reaching for the scar on the inside of my left arm. "But, he said he'd come by after they close, so . . ."

"So, you're making dinner for him?" he asked, smiling.

"I just thought he might be hungry," I mumbled, feeling my cheeks warm with my blush.

"You really like him, don't you?"

I opened my mouth, but promptly closed it. Standing up, I walked over to the window and looked out over the city. "I don't know what I feel. I just know that when he's around me, I don't feel like . . . I don't know . . . the world is going to end or something." I paused and looked over at him, finding him staring at me with wide eyes. "It's silly, right? I mean, to feel like this?"

"No," Carlisle said. "I mean, isn't that how you're supposed to feel when you like someone?"

"I'm scared," I whimpered, and he was immediately on his feet and holding me against his chest. "I have all these feelings, and I don't . . ."

"Shh, it's okay," he whispered, leaning his cheek against the top of my head.

Carlisle stayed long enough to grab a plate of food before kissing my forehead and once again reassuring me that it was okay to feel confused. With him gone, I covered the remaining food and left it in the oven, but turned the heat down so that it would stay warm, but not burn.

Just after two in the morning, Edward knocked on the door to my apartment. Releasing a heavy breath, I walked over and opened it, finding him leaning against the doorjamb. He was still wearing the dark jeans and black T-shirt that he had been that afternoon, but there was a weariness in his eyes that had me nervous.

"Hey," I murmured. "Come on in."

"Thanks," he replied, stepping into my apartment and dropping his motorcycle helmet on the floor next to the door, letting his keys fall from his hand and inside of it. "Is it okay that I'm here?"

"Of course." I turned and led him into my apartment. "Sorry, the place is such a mess, but well, it's a crap hole."

Edward laughed. "My place isn't any better."

"Welcome to Vegas, right?" I scoffed, walking into the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

But when I looked over my shoulder, Edward wasn't standing there. Hurrying back into the living room, I found him standing in front of my uncompleted canvas with the white sheet I'd covered it with in his hand.

"You paint this?" he asked, looking over at me.

I nodded.

"It's good," he said.

"It's shit," I muttered, ripping the sheet out of his hand and covering it back up. I looked back at him. "Are you hungry?"

"You cooked me dinner?" he asked, smiling.

"No," I lied. "I cooked myself dinner. I was simply asking if you wanted some."

"Oh, okay," he snickered. "Then yes, I'm hungry. What's on the menu for tonight?"

"Green Chili Enchiladas," I muttered, walking in the kitchen and pulling the dishes out of the oven.

"Sound delicious," he said, placing his hands on my hips. I tensed. "Are you okay?"

"I, um . . ." I shook my head. "Sorry, I'm just . . ."

"It's okay," he whispered, releasing me. I turned and looked at him. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"It's not you," I told him, which resulted in him rolling his eyes. "It's not. I've never . . . I'm not . . ." I clenched my hands into tight fists. "Fuck."

"Bella," he said, placing his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him. "It's okay. I can go. I had a long night, anyway."

"Don't leave," I pleaded with him, grabbing the front of his shirt. Edward's eyes shifted down the scar on the inside of my arm.

"What happened?"

I shook my head, letting my hand fall to my side. "Um, long story."

Edward shifted his eyes up to mine. "I like long stories."

"This one isn't pretty," I whispered.

"They never are," he murmured, and dropping his hand from my shoulder, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and lifted it up, revealing five scars of his own. "Bike chain," he murmured. "When I was sixteen."

"Knife," I whispered. "When I was twelve."

"Not an accident," he added to his story.

"Mine, either," I whimpered.

"Bella, I . . . ." Edward trailed off as he dropped his shirt and brought his hands up to my face. "This is all so fucked up. I don't know you, but I can't stay away."

"I don't want you to stay away," I admitted. "And I should. I should want you to run as far away from me as you can get before . . ."

"I can't leave you," he whispered, leaning his forehead against mine. "I need you too damn much."

"Don't," I cried. "Don't need me."

"Too late. I already do."

"Edward," I wept, grabbing the front of his shirt.

He moved his hand to my chin, tilting my head upward. And before I could think about what he was doing, Edward kissed me.

**Thank you for all the reviews.**


	13. Chapter 13

EPOV

Pulling my lips away from Bella's, I pressed my forehead against hers and tried to take a deep breath. I don't know why I kissed her. Okay, that's not true. I had wanted to kiss her from the moment I first saw her standing in the middle of the diner. But I was afraid, terrified of the feelings that sprang up inside of me every time I was close to her. She had lured me into her web, entangled me in a need for her.

"Edward," she whispered, and the sound of my name falling from the tip of her tongue had my breath catching in my chest. "Why are you doing this to me, Edward?"

"Doing what?" I asked.

Bella tilted her head back, looking me in the eye. "Making me care about you."

I wasn't sure what to say because I wanted her to care about me, to want me the way I wanted her, but I knew it wasn't that easy. Life had served me nothing but heartache and disappointment.

"I don't know," I told her, knowing I had to be honest with her, with myself.

"Me, either," she whispered, releasing her grip from my shirt and taking a step backward. "Let me make you a plate."

I nodded, knowing that she needed a moment to collect herself, and honestly, I did, too. Bella turned to the counter and picked up a plate. She slid a handful of enchiladas onto it before placing it on the counter and adding a few to the other plate. Then, she covered the baking dish with foil, grabbed two forks, and gestured for me to follow her into the living room, which I did. She set the plates down on the coffee table before looking over at me.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked. "I don't have much. Some bottled water and some tea. I can make some coffee. I might have some lemonade in the cabinet."

I smiled as she rambled. "Water would be great."

Bella grinned and walked into the kitchen. She came back in a couple minutes later with two bottles of water in her hand. She handed one to me before she settled on the couch, nestling herself in the corner with her plate balanced on her knees. I sat down on the opposite end of the couch, but angled my body toward her. I scooped a forkful of enchiladas into my mouth, moaning.

Bella burst out laughing. "I take it you like them?"

I smiled and nodded. "They're really good." I scooped another fork full and stuffed it into my mouth. "I don't really cook much. Usually just grab a sandwich before work, or frozen waffles."

Bella turned her attention to her food. "It's hard to cook for just one person. I usually make enough for Carlisle to have some, too."

"Oh," I said, continuing to eat. "How long have you and Carlisle known each other?"

"A couple years," she muttered. "He moved in to the building not long after I did. We became friends, I guess."

"Just friends?" I asked, shifting my attention to her.

Bella smiled. "Yeah. There was a kiss once, but it was weird and . . ." She shuddered as she shook her head. "He's like my brother."

"Do you have any brothers? Or sisters?"

Her shoulders tensed as she shifted her attention to her plate. "Um, I had a brother, but . . ."

"But?" I prompted.

Bella bit her lip as she looked up at me. "I don't know where he is, or where any of my family is anymore."

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning.

She shook her head as she shifted so she could put her plate on the coffee table, moving back into the corner of the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest. "When I was little, my parents sent me away."

"Where?"

"To an art institute," she explained. "I've always been creative, or whatever," she said, with a wave toward her canvas. "When I was seven, I was showing my work at a small state fair in Seattle Washington when a man approached my parents. He . . ." Bella blew out a deep breath as she scrambled to her feet and began pacing back and forth. I knew I should stop her, but I couldn't seem to speak. "I don't remember everything he said, but he liked my work. Bought everything I had that day. I remember him talking to my parents about his institute, about how my talent was being wasted and how he could help me polish my craft. He offered me a scholarship, but I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay with my family, but I guess my parents didn't care because a few weeks later, the man picked me up after school and took me away," she cried.

Bella looked over at me. "I never saw them again. My parents or my little brother. The man, he took me to Arizona. And he, um . . ." She shook her head. "He wasn't a nice man. I didn't live up to his expectations, and he made it painfully clear that I wasn't worth anything."

"Is he the one who cut your arm?" I asked

She nodded, bringing her hand up to the scar on the inside of her arm. "My work was sloppy. He kept warning me, telling me to do it better, but I didn't listen. Never listened. Maybe that's why my parents gave me to him." Bella reached up and wiped a tear off her cheek. "He said the scar would be my reminder of how lazy I am. Like I needed another reminder."

"He cut you because your work was sloppy?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "He couldn't sell them and made it clear that I was only worth keeping around as long as my work kept selling."

"Oh, wow," I muttered, putting my plate on the coffee table.

"Yeah," she scoffed, leaning against the wall next to the window. "See? I'm all fucked up."

I snorted and leaned back. "Yeah, well, I happen to know a thing or two about being fucked up."

"Yeah?" she asked, walking over to a stereo and turning on some music. "Is this okay? It helps cull the silence sometimes."

"It's fine," I murmured. "My, um, parents were . . . assholes, to put it nicely. Junkies, abusive, bastards. You know, the usual sob story."

"They hurt you a lot?" she asked.

"Every chance they got," I whispered. "My mother more than my father, but that's because she blamed me for his death. He died when I was thirteen. Heroin overdose. She, um, said it was my fault for not stopping him before he took too much. I left as soon as I could. Headed here to Vegas. Last I heard, she was living in a homeless shelter in Chicago."

"The scars?" Bella asked, and I shifted my eyes up to her. "Where'd you get those?"

"She, um." I paused and took a deep breath. "She owed her dealer some cash and didn't have it, so she let him use me and . . . uh . . . Anyway, I fought back, and he got angry and beat me with a bicycle chain."

"Fighting back never helped. Just makes them rougher," she whispered, sliding against the wall and settling on the floor.

"He . . . did that to you?" I asked, unable to straight out ask her if the man who took her from her family raped her.

Bella nodded. "I owed him. He spent money on me. Gave me food, clothes, and a place to live. I had to pay my debt, and that's the only method of payment he accepted. Especially when my work stopped selling."

Bella stood up and moved back over to the couch, sitting with her knees bent up in front of her once again. I turned and faced her, laying my arm on the back of the couch. For several minutes, we sat there, just staring at each other, letting the heaviness of our confessions settle.

"Why'd you come to the diner today?" she asked, ending the silence.

"I needed to see you," I told her. "I've stopped by a few times, but couldn't seem to go in."

"Because of me?"

With a shake of my head, I tried to make her understand. "I need you, Bella, but I don't want to need you."

She frowned. "I don't understand."

"Fuck, I don't understand," I muttered. "I've spent the last seven years trying to get through one day at a time. Other than Alice and Emmett, I don't have friends; I don't let people get close to me. Fuck, Bella, I've never even told them anything about myself." I shook my head. "I don't understand this . . . pull that I have to you, why I need you so fucking much. It scares that shit out of me, but I can't stay away. Not anymore."

"I don't want you to stay away," she whimpered, looking at me with tear-filled eyes. She brought her hand up and covered her mouth. "When you're around, I feel . . . better. I feel like . . . I can breathe without it hurting all the time. It's stupid, because you don't know me, not the real me, and if you did, you'd probably run as far away from me as you could."

"No, I wouldn't," I blurted out, knowing the second the words were out of my mouth that I meant them.

"Edward, I've done horrible things," she cried. "If you knew, you'd . . . Well, you wouldn't want me."

"Tell me," I said, causing her to gasp. "Tell me what is so horrible that you think I'd run."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"I stole," I told her. "Books, clothes, movies, anything I could get my hands on. I sold them on the street and saved the money so that I could leave my mother. When she threw me at her dealer's feet and told him he could have me, I could have paid her debt. I could have saved myself all of that pain, but I didn't because if I did, I knew I'd never get away from her. So I tried to fight him off, thinking I could make a break for it, but he was stronger than me." I took a deep breath. "I left Chicago the next morning, and never looked back."

"And you're happy here?" she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "When I'm with you, I am, but when I'm not with you, I hate it."

"Edward," she whispered, laying her head on the back of the couch. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"Make everything sound easy."

"I wasn't aware that I did," I scoffed.

"You do," she murmured.

A calming silence filled the room; only the sound of the music pouring from the stereo was heard. I scooted over, sliding my arm on the couch behind her. Bella smiled as she leaned toward me, nestling herself in my arms. My eyes fluttered to a close as I reveled in the feelings inside of me. For the first time in my life, I felt happy. And I knew Bella was the reason why I felt so content, and that alone scared the shit out of me.

I'm not sure how long we were sitting in the quiet when Bella sighed.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She frowned. "I need to get ready for my shift," she explained.

"Oh." I nodded and stood up.

"You could come get breakfast?" she suggested, scrambling to her feet.

"I should probably get some sleep," I muttered, warily. "Or try to at least. I haven't really slept much lately."

"Me, either," she mumbled, shifting her eyes to the ground. "Will I see you later?"

"Do you want to?" I asked.

Bella nodded and looked up at me. "I can't stay away from you, either, Edward. Not anymore."

"You should," I whispered.

"I know." Bella leaned her head against my chest. "I need you, too."

I brought my hands up to her face, caressing her cheeks as I searched her eyes for any sign that she was lying, that she was just playing with my emotions, but I found nothing but truth staring back at me. For the second time since I arrived at her apartment, I lowered my lips down onto hers.

**Thank you for all the reviews. Short chapter, I know, but intense and very intense. **


	14. Chapter 14

BPOV

Edward insisted on driving me to the diner, even though I assured him a dozen times that I could walk, like I did every day. But there was a look in his eyes, one that told me that he needed to do this for me, for himself, so I gave in and let him.

He pulled his bike up in front of the diner, and I reluctantly climbed off the back. Though I wasn't one for motorcycles, I loved riding with him, holding onto him, touching him. Edward was different than other guy. Hell, he was different than other people. His soul was just as damaged as mine.

"Sure you don't want to come in?" I asked. "We have amazing French toast."

Edward smiled. "No, I work tonight, so I need to get some sleep."

I nodded, shifting nervously in front of him. "Listen, about what I told you —"

"It stays between us," he interrupted.

"Thanks," I whispered. "I just . . ." I trailed off with a sigh.

"It's okay. I get it." Edward reached up and stroked my cheek, causing me to lean into his touch. "Can I see you later? You could come to the bar, or I could come back to your place?"

I smiled. "My place. The bar is . . ." I blew out a deep breath. "I'm just not ready yet."

"Okay." Edward smiled. "It'll be late again."

"I don't mind." And the moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew I meant them. My need for Edward was intense.

His grin widened as his hand slid to the back of my neck and he gently pulled me down, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. "I'll see you later."

I released a shaky breath and whispered, "Okay."

Somehow, I managed to pull myself away from him, though every step I took caused my heart to ache. As I reached the door to the diner, I looked over my shoulder, finding Edward still sitting there, watching me. The look in his face sent a chill through me, but I wasn't scared. Not of him at least.

When I walked into the diner, I wasn't surprised to see Jasper piddling around inside the kitchen or Rose making a fresh pot of coffee. Mr. Call was sitting behind the podium, a glare in Rose's direction. Every time she looked over at him, he'd snort, and I saw her cringe away. I wanted the beat the man for the way he was treating her. She hadn't done anything but ask for a job, and she was doing a damn good job. Next to me, she was the one waitress in the dump who made an effort to keep the customers happy.

Clearing my throat, I drew Mr. Call's attention to me. He sobered up immediately. "Cutting it pretty close, aren't you, Isabella?"

"Nope," I clipped. "Still have ten minutes before my shift begins. Some would call that being early, Mr. Call."

He huffed, but didn't say anything else as I walked into the back and stuffed my bag into my locker and grabbed my apron, wrapping it around my waist.

"He's been here since four," Jasper whispered, leaning against the lockers next to me. I looked over at him, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes. "He came rushing in and was searching through all the files in the office, muttering about missing deposits."

I nodded. "His son's doing, I'm sure." Jasper didn't say anything. "You worked last night?"

His eyes shifted over to mine. "No. Just . . . couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, I didn't get any, either," I told him, turning so that I was facing him. "You okay?"

Jasper smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah."

"Okay," I murmured, slowly bringing my hand up and resting it on his chest. He inhaled a sharp breath, but didn't pull away. "You're a good person, Jasper."

His eyes snapped up to mine again, a look of disbelief and uncertainty etched into every feature. "You don't know me."

"I don't need to," I said, letting my hand fall from his chest and turning and walking out of the kitchen.

Rose had the basket of silverware tucked up on her hip as she walked from table to table and made sure that each one was full. Since she'd already started all the coffee, I began getting the dessert case filled, making a mental note of making some new pies if the afternoon was slow. Just as I placed the last of the apple pie into the case, the door opened and a party of six came in.

The morning was busy, and as usual, Mr. Call slipped out just as we were facing the heaviest part of the morning rush. Jasper was doing a fantastic job with getting the orders Rose and I turned in out as fast as possible, but like always, we had a few impatient assholes who felt they were more important than the dozen people in front of them.

Finally, just before ten the diner started to empty and I went back behind the counter to start some fresh coffee while Rose began clearing tables. The door opened and I looked over my shoulder, feeling my heart clench in my chest when I saw the old man stumbling through. He hadn't been in several days, not since I called Carlisle and begged him to come in. He'd looked bad then, but now, he looked downright horrible.

The left side of his mouth drooped, and his left shoulder dipped lower than his right. Also, he seemed to be having trouble lifting his left foot off the ground entirely. He stopped in the doorway and looked around the diner, stopping when he saw me. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His right hand lifted from his side as he reached out for me just seconds before he crumbled to the ground.

"Oh fuck!" I cried, nearly leaping over the counter and kneeling next to him. His skin was dry and ashy. His hair was dirty, like he hadn't showered in days. He was wearing the same clothes that he had been the morning he rushed out of the diner. "Someone call 911!"

I looked up, finding Rose standing next to the Old Man's table looking like someone had just sucker punched her. "Rose!" I screamed, drawing her attention to me. "Call 911! Please!"

She nodded as she rushed around us to the podium and grabbed the phone, quickly punching in the number. As she blurted out that we needed an ambulance and gave the dispatcher our address, the old man reached up and placed his hand on my face. I looked down at him. Tears filled his eyes. He opened his mouth several times, but he couldn't seem to do anything more than grunt.

"It's okay, Old Man," I cried. "I've gotcha."

He grunted again, his hand patting the side of my face.

I grabbed his hand between mine and brought it to my chest. His hands were rough and course. His eyes bore into mine, and all I could do was sit there, holding his hand as I wept. "You can't leave me, Old man," I told him as tears slipped down my face. "Do you hear me? You can't fucking leave me."

His eyes softened, just before they closed. I heard myself screaming, begging for him not to die. A few minutes later, the doors to the diner opened as the paramedics came rushing in. I scrambled out of their way, wrapping my arms around myself as I watched them access his condition. He had a heartbeat, but it was faint and weak. They strapped him to the stretcher before they began pushing him out of the diner. For reasons that I didn't understand, I found myself following them. I looked back at Rose and Jasper, who was standing in the door way of the kitchen.

"Close the diner, and then call Mr. Call," I told them. "Tell him I made the decision, and if he has a problem, he can find me at University Medical Center."

They both nodded, and I knew I was putting them in an awkward position, but neither of them knew how to run the cash register, and I had to go with the old man, I just wasn't sure why. As they drove off, I called Carlisle, hoping like hell that he wasn't working today. After a few rings, I heard his phone click and a muffled, "Hello."

"Car," I cried.

"Bell, what's wrong?" he asked, frantically.

"The Old Man, Car. He came back. He collapsed."

"Did you call for an ambulance?" I could hear him moving around his apartment.

"Yes," I whispered. "They're taking him to University Medical Center."

Carlisle took a sharp breath. "Oh."

"Is that not a good hospital?" I demanded.

"No, it's great," he mumbled. "Where are you?"

"Um, still at the diner, about to head there. Can . . . can you meet me? Please?"

For several seconds, he was completely quiet. "Yeah. Be there soon."

"Car," I whispered.

"I know, Bell," he murmured. "Me too."

The phone clicked as the call ended. I shoved it into my apron and rushed over to the street, trying to flag down a cab. However, a dozen passed by me without even a glance in my direction. It was then that a hand came down to rest on my shoulder and I looked back to see Edward standing there, his motorcycle parked behind him. I hadn't even heard him drive up.

"Rose called," he said. "Come on. I'll give you a lift."

"You came here just for me?" I asked, shocked.

Edward brought his hand up to my face. "You need me."

"I do," I whispered. "I really do."

Without a word, he led me over to his bike and handed me one his helmets before climbing on. I placed it on my head and slipped onto the bike behind him, wrapping my arms around him. I felt him sigh just before he jumpstarted the machine and took off toward University Medical Center.

When we walked in, we found Carlisle already waiting for us. He was standing just inside the door, looking uncomfortable and unsure if he should be there. Shifting his eyes over to me, he relaxed and opened his arms up. I rushed over to him, jumping in his arms and letting him hold me. It wasn't until Edward cleared his throat that I realized how it must look. I pulled myself away from Carlisle and turned back to him, frowning.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"It's okay," he muttered, but I could tell it bothered him.

Shifting nervously, I looked back at Carlisle. "Any word?"

"I haven't asked yet," he whispered.

I nodded and walked over to the triage desk. There was a nurse sitting behind the desk. She had her feet up on the chair next to her and she was filing her nails. I waited nearly thirty seconds before I slammed my hand on the counter, causing her to look over at me.

"Can I help you?" she sneered.

I ground my teeth as I replied. "An ambulance just brought in an old man from Call's Diner."

"And?" she asked.

"I'd like to know how he's doing," I snarled, resisting the urge to reach across the counter and bitchslap her.

"Are you family?" she asked, cocking a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"Yes," I lied.

Though it was clear she didn't believe me, she smiled and said, "Well, I'm sure the doctor will be out as soon as there is an update, miss."

Clenching my hands into fists, I pushed away from the counter and walked into the waiting room. Edward and Carlisle had taken a couple of seats in the back corner, so I went over and sat between them, telling them what the bitch had told me. Carlisle's eyes flittered in her direction, but he didn't say anything.

Edward wrapped his arm around me, nestling me against his chest as we waited. Time felt like it had stopped, and I was constantly looking at the clock expecting hours to have passed when only minutes had gone by.

We'd been waiting two hours when the door to the emergency room opened and Mr. Call came storming in. He put his hands on his hips as he looked around the room, finally finding me sitting in the back corner.

"You," he hissed, nearly racing toward me. He reached out and grabbed my arm, dragging me out of my seat. I could smell the liquor on his breath. "You closed my diner? You don't have the right to close anything, you stupid little bitch!"

I screamed, trembling as I tried to free myself from his iron grip. All I could see were his eyes, cold and hard. All I could feel was his hand on me, scratching, hitting, hurting. As I screamed again, I felt his hand get ripped off of me and I fell backward into Carlisle's arms. Looking over, I saw Edward slam Mr. Call to the ground, his fist smashing into his face over and over. The sound of people screaming for them to stop, screaming for security echoed off the walls, but I was paralyzed with fear, unable to move.

Two guards came rushing out of the emergency room and pulled Edward off of Mr. Call, banging him against the wall and slapping a pair of silver handcuffs on him. A nurse and a doctor were accessing Mr. Call, who appeared to have a broken nose. The police showed up, demanding answers. They were about to arrest Edward on assault charges, ignoring mine and Carlisle's claims that Mr. Call had assaulted me first and that Edward was defending me, when the doors to the back opened once again and a doctor came waltzing out. He looked around, his eyes landing on Carlisle.

"Dr. Cullen?" he asked.

Next to me, I felt Carlisle tense. "Dr. Gerandy."

He shifted his attention down to me. "Miss Swan?"

Nodding, I wondered how he knew my last name. I hadn't given the nurse my name when I was at the desk.

"He's stable. For now. But he's suffered a stroke. One of many, I believe. We're going to move him up to the ICU, but if you would like to see him beforehand, I can give you a few minutes."

"Okay," I whispered, looking over at Carlisle.

"I'm make sure he's okay. You just go," he muttered, seeming even more uncomfortable with Dr. Gerandy being here.

I nodded and turned to Edward, who was sitting three seats away. "I'm sorry."

And before he could say anything, I turned and followed Dr. Gerandy into the back, straight through to one of the trauma rooms. The old man was still unconscious. There were tubes and wires hooked up to him, and my heart ached as I walked over to him, talking one of his hands in mine.

"How long has he been showing signs of a stroke?" Dr. Gerandy asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I haven't seen him in a few days. The last time I saw him, I knew something was wrong, but he bolted before I could get him help."

"You don't see him every day?" the doctor asked.

I sighed and shook my head. "I'm not really family. I work in a diner that he frequents. He used to come in every morning, but he hadn't been in for a few days."

"You're not Isabella Swan?" he asked, causing me to lift my eyes to him.

"How'd you know my name?"

He frowned as he reached over to a small silver table and picked up a brown wallet. He pulled out a picture, handing it to me. The photograph was taken just a few months after I started working at the diner, not long after I arrived in Vegas. Around the same time that the old man started coming into the diner every day. Tears filled my eyes as I turned it over and read the three words written on the back. "Isabella Marie Swan." I took a deep breath and looked over at Dr. Gerandy, who was watching me closely. "What's his name?"

He seemed to hesitate, almost as if he wasn't sure he should share that tidbit of information of me, but then his lips parted and two words trickled out: "Charlie Swan."

**Thank you for all the reviews. I know, I know, I'm an evil bitch for leaving it there. You know you love me!**


	15. Chapter 15

EPOV

I watched Bella follow the doctor through the back without another look back at me. A part of me should have been pissed that she was leaving me there in handcuffs after I had defended her, but the other part, that part that had stayed up all night with her, knew that old man meant something to her, and I didn't care what happened to me. It was stupid, but all I wanted was for Bella to be all right. The doctor and nurse assessed the asshole and then loaded him onto a bed and rolled him into the back, muttering terms like X-rays and MRIs. Personally, I hoped I had done some real damage. When she screamed, the look of horror on her face, all I could think of was that I needed to help her, to save her. She'd been through too much, felt too much pain, and I refused to let that asshole add to her heartache. He no right to put his hands on my woman, and make no mistake, Bella was mine. She owned my heart and soul, and I'd be damned if anyone hurt her ever again.

"Release him!" Carlisle demanded, gesturing toward me. "He didn't do anything other than defend her from that overzealous asshole!"

"Dr. Cullen, we're reviewing the security tapes now," one of the guards said, throwing him a glare. "You should know that, shouldn't you?"

I shifted my attention over to Carlisle, knowing based on the way his jaw was clenched and how his fist was so tight, his nails were digging into the palm of his hand wasn't a good thing. I'd seen that look before on the face of my mother's dealer. He'd been pissed when I fought back, trying to stop him from using me for his own enjoyment. Before I could say anything, another guard came out of the back. He leaned over to the guard who was holding my arm, whispering in his ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but based on the way his shoulders tensed, I knew it wasn't good.

He yanked me up by my arm and spun me around. I felt my body tense as he grabbed my hand, but a moment later, he removed the handcuffs, nearly pushing me away from him.

"You're free to go, and by go, we mean out of the hospital," he grumbled, folding his arms in front of his chest and giving me a look that clearly said not to argue with him.

Before I could say anything, the doors to the back got thrown open and Bella came running out, her hand covering her mouth like she was trying her hardest to keep from screaming. Her eyes met mine and it felt like someone sucker punched me. There was so much pain and heartache reflecting back at me.

Grabbing the front of my shirt, she threw her other arm around me, almost like she was trying to tether our bodies together. "Take me home," she cried. "Please, take me home."

"Okay," I whispered, holding her as tight as I could.

I looked over at Carlisle, who was watching with a frown. "Take her to her apartment. I'll be there soon."

I wanted to tell him to fuck off, that she didn't need him to come over. But she did. She needed him in a ways that I wouldn't understand. While I hated it, hated that he had a part of her heart that I didn't, I couldn't ask her to choose. She wouldn't pick me, and I wouldn't be able to survive losing Bella.

I slid my arm under her legs and lifted her up. Bella's arm tightened around my neck as I carried her out of the hospital and over to my bike. I could feel her trembling. Though it was difficult to let her go, in order to climb onto my motorcycle, I had to. Bella was behind me in a heartbeat, her arms wrapping around my torso like a vice grip.

The drive back to her apartment felt like it took an agonizing long time. Bella's grip never loosened, not that I wanted it to. I needed her to hold on to me, to depend on me right now. When I pulled up in front, Bella leapt off the back and she grabbed my hand, almost dragging me behind her as she led the way up to her apartment.

She threw the door open and raced inside. I wasn't sure what to say or do, so I stood back and watched as she rummaged through the stack of canvas's leaning against the wall. Grabbing one from the back, she slid to the floor, holding it in front of her. In the painting, a little girl with dark brown hair was sitting on a tire swing, her long hair was flowing behind her. A man, with the same color hair as her, stood behind her, pushing her. He had a smile on his face. Sitting on a large blanket, were a woman with sandy blond hair and a boy with light brown hair. Somehow, and I wasn't sure how, I knew they were Bella's family, the ones that had left her behind.

"It's not possible. It can't be possible," she cried, pulling her knees up in front of her.

I walked over to her, sliding onto the floor and wrapping my arms around her. "What's not possible?"

Bella shook her head, grabbing her hair and sobbing harder. The door to her apartment opened and we looked over, finding Carlisle rush inside with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. Without a word, he set them on the table and walked into the kitchen, coming back a moment later with three glasses. Sitting on the floor in front of Bella, he pushed the canvas away and poured a generous amount of vodka into one of the glasses.

"Here," he murmured, shoving it into her hand.

She chugged it back, swallowing it all in one gulp before handing it back to him. "Another."

Carlisle nodded, before pouring her more. Again, she sucked it down all at once, thrusting the glass into his hand and asking for more. Three more times, he filled the glass, three more times, he placed it in her hand, and three more times, she chugged it down like it was nothing but water.

"Better?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No."

"Want another?" he asked.

Bella dropped her head into her hands. "No."

Carlisle nodded before he placed the vodka onto the table and grabbed the tequila, pouring a hefty amount into one of the other glasses before he held it out to me. I took it without thinking, watching as he poured himself some and took a hearty drink. For several minutes, we sat in silence, drinking the alcohol laid out in front of us, while Bella sat with her knees to her chest, her head buried in her hands, and mumbling about the impossible.

When the tequila ran out, Carlisle finished off the last of the vodka. It wasn't until the apartment started to darken that I realized how late it was, that I was missing my shift at the bar. I scrambled to my feet and pulled my cell-phone from my back pocket as I walked into the hallway. I could feel the alcohol surging through my body, and knew there was no way I could work tonight, so I called Alice.

"Eddie, where the fuck are you!" she screeched after the phone barely rang.

"Ali," I slurred, leaning against the wall. "I can't come in."

"Where are you?" she demanded, her tone mixed of anger and concern. I never missed a shift.

"With Bella," I murmured. "Ali, she needs me. I need her. Have to be with her. Can't live without her."

"Edward," Alice whispered.

"Cover for me, Ali," I begged, sliding to the floor. "Please."

"Okay," she mumbled.

I hung up and scrambled to my feet and letting myself back into the apartment. Carlisle was sitting in front of Bella, one leg on either side of her with Bella's hands in his. They were whispering to one another, sharing an intimate moment and I felt the pangs of jealousy.

Bella looked over at me, and she tried to smile, but it didn't come off. She pulled her hand away from Carlisle's and reached for me. I wanted to turn and leave, but I couldn't. My feet refused to walk away, instead choosing to walk over to her. Carlisle moved back and I sat on the floor next to her, taking hold of her hand. She climbed over onto my lap, curling herself up like a little girl, trying to hide.

"I think we need some food," Carlisle said, standing up. "Pizza or Chinese?"

"Pizza," Bella whispered.

He nodded before he turned and walked into the kitchen. I heard him talking on his phone, ordering a couple large pizzas. Bella brought her hand up, wrapping it around my neck and sighing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I whispered.

Her body shook again as another round of tears rocketed through her. "I don't even know if I understand what's going on."

I hummed, but didn't say anything.

Bella sighed and leaned away, looking me in the eye. "Remember what I told you last night, or this morning? About me?"

I nodded.

"The old man, he, um, had a picture of me in his wallet. A picture that was taken not long after I moved to Vegas," she whispered. "On the back, he had written my name. My whole name. Middle and last name. Edward, nobody knows me here like that."

"So, you think he was stalking you?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. But it's more than that, it's . . . his name . . . but he can't be. It's not possible."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, as Carlisle came back into the room. She tensed, and shook her head.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, shifting his attention from me to her.

"No," Bella muttered. "I just . . . I don't understand."

"Did the old man die?" Carlisle wondered, sitting on the couch.

Bella's eyes filled with tears again as she shook her head. "No, but he's not in good shape. He, um, he had a stroke. One of several from the way I understand it."

"I suspected as much," Carlisle whispered.

"I think he's my father," she said, and I gasped, looking down at her. "I know, right?"

"But you said . . ." I shifted my eyes to Carlisle, unsure if he knew Bella's story. Based on the confused look on his face, he didn't.

"I know what I said, but his name is Charlie Swan, Edward, just like my father. But why would he be here? Why now? Why after fifteen years, is he here?"

"I — I don't know," I said.

Another awkward silence filled the room. Bella laid her head on my chest, wrapping her hand around the top of my shirt. It wasn't until someone knocked on the door to her apartment and she didn't move that I realized she had fallen asleep. Standing up, I carried her into her bedroom, laying her on the bed and covering her with a blanket. Though I wanted nothing more than to lay down next to her and keep her in my arms, I walked back into the living room. If she woke up with me in her bed, she might get scared of me, and I couldn't handle that. I needed Bella too much.

"She much be exhausted," Carlisle said, tossing me a paper plate. "She doesn't turn down pizza for anything."

I nodded, unsure what to say. "What kind did you get?"

"Um, peperoni and hamburger," he replied, opening the boxes. "It's what we usually order."

"Oh," I said, grabbing a slice of hamburger. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Guy down at the pizza place gives us a discount after we saved his life."

"How'd you'd do that?" I asked.

"Um, about two months after we met, he came into the diner. He choked on a piece of ice and she had to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him. But the ice was rather big, it tore a hole in his esophagus and he started choking up blood, so she called me and begged me to come down to the diner. It was like two in the morning, and she all by herself. So, I did. I rushed him to the hospital, and luckily, they were able to repair the damage. He was so thankful to both of us that he insisted that he give us a discount for as long as he's open."

"Wow," I said. "That's pretty generous of him."

Carlisle nodded and took a bit of his slice of peperoni. "So, I'm not going to beat around the bush. What's your deal with her?"

My eyes widened. "I'm sorry?"

He sighed, tossing his plate onto the table. "Look, I don't mean to sound like an asshole, but she's important to me. I love her."

I tensed.

"Not like that," he quickly added. "I'm not in love with her. She's my best friend, my person. She's like a sister to me. I don't want her to get hurt, if you understand what I'm saying."

"I do," I said. "I won't hurt her. I . . . I need her."

He inhaled a sharp breath. "Has she told you about her past?" When I looked at him in surprise, he added, "She talks in her sleep. I don't know everything. But enough to know that if the old man is really her father, her entire world is about to fall apart."

I pressed my lips together, unsure of what to say. His connection to Bella was strong, and honestly, it made me uncomfortable. Especially when I thought about him sharing a bed with her. Were they fuck buddies?

"Bella and I, we have sort of an understanding. She knows when there are things I'm battling and I know when she needs to stifle her pain with liquor," he said, gesturing to the empty bottles. "She hadn't had an easy life, as I'm sure you know. She's . . . an amazing person. Selfless and giving. Too giving, if you asked me. But she doesn't see herself very clearly, Edward. She thinks she's too damaged to love, too worthless to matter to anyone. So, I'm going to ask you this once: are you going to break her?"

"That's enough." At the sound of Bella's voice, we both turned to her bedroom. Finding her standing there in a pair of ratty sweats and a T-shirt. "I love you, Car. I do, but you're out of line."

Nodding, he stood up and walked over her, sliding one hand along her hip while leaning down and kissing her forehead. "If you trust him, that's good enough for me, Bell. Eat some pizza. In the morning, we need to talk, okay?"

Bella tensed but whispered, "Okay."

Carlisle pulled himself away from her and looked over at me, tilting his head in my direction before he turned and walked out of her apartment. Bella grabbed a slice of pizza before settling on the couch, sitting with her body angled next to mine. We each ate several slices without saying anything. And while I knew there a lot on her mind, I didn't ask her to talk to me, knowing that when she was ready, she'd tell me.

"I'm tired," she whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder.

"Maybe you should go back to bed," I suggested.

Bella looked up at me, her eyes wide. "Will you stay with me?"

"Are you sure you want me to?" I asked.

She shook her head. "But I need you to. It's stupid and wrong, but . . ." She trailed off. "Please?"

Unable to say no, I nodded. Bella stood up and grabbed my hand. I stood up and followed her into her bedroom. She released my hand and walked around to the far side of the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up. I kicked my shoes off and undid my belt.

"I can't sleep in jeans. Is that okay?" I asked, not wanting her to be uncomfortable.

"Yeah, of course," she mumbled.

Her eyes dropping to the top of my pants as I fumbled with the button and zipper. I kicked them off, leaving my shirt on. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to her bed and pulled the blanket off, sliding onto the bed and rolling so that I was facing her. Bella mirrored my movement and for a several minutes, we just stared at each other.

"Do you think it's really him?" she asked.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"What am I supposed to do now? They sent me away, Edward. Left me in the hands of . . ." Her eyes flooded with tears. "The things that monster did to me, it was like living in hell every day. It took everything I had to leave, and now, a man with the same name as my father is here in the hospital, and I'm what? Supposed to be his daughter now? I don't . . . I don't know how to do that."

"I don't think you have to. I mean, if you don't want to that is."

"Yeah, maybe," she murmured, bringing her hand up and grabbing the front of my shirt. "Edward?"

"Yeah?"

Her eyes lifted to mine. "Don't leave me, too."

"Never." And the moment the word was out of my mouth, I knew I meant it. I'd never be able to leave her. My heart was tied to hers forever.

**Thank you for all the reviews. I know, I know, I can't believe the old man turned out to be Charlie, either! **


	16. Chapter 16

BPOV

When I woke up the next morning, with Edward's arms wrapped around me, I almost smiled. Almost because even with him holding me, I was still terrified of everything that had been going on. Edward, the old man, the feelings inside of me when I thought about the possibility of seeing my father again, and the uncertainty on whether or not I would be able to go back to that hospital.

Somehow, and I'm not sure how, I managed to pull myself out of Edward's arms and quietly walked into the kitchen. I went through the motions of making a pot of coffee and piddling around the kitchen while it brewed, but my mind was elsewhere. It was with the old man who laid in the hospital, sick and needing me. The old man who could possibly be my father, but how could I know for sure?

I poured myself a cup of coffee and walked into the living room, sliding to the floor in front of the painting of my family. It was the one memory that had stuck of us over the years.

"Bella," Edward whispered, and I looked over my shoulder at him.

"If I close my eyes, I can almost picture them. Dad seemed like he was ten feet tall, but I knew he wasn't. Dark, curly brown hair, big bushy mustache. Mom used to tease him about getting food stuck in it, but he'd wave her off and say that he was just storing up for the winter. She was beautiful. Long, soft brown hair, big blue eyes. Every night she would sit on my bed and brush my hair, telling me stories about princesses and fairies.

"My brother was only four years old when they sent me away, and we fought all the time. He was always coming into my room, messing with my paints. He wanted to be like me, he said, but I'd push him out and told him leave me alone. Mom and Dad always told me that I had to be nice to him, that he needed me. Why is he here, Edward? Why would he be following me like this? I just don't understand."

"I wish I had an answer for you, Bella, but I don't," he said, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Are you going to go see him again?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know what to do."

He nodded before bringing a hand to the back of his neck. "Um, I have to go. I missed my shift last night, and I know they left the place a mess."

Though I didn't want him to leave, I understood. "Am I going to see you later?"

"I hope so," he said, smiling. "It'll be late again, though. I can come by tomorrow, if you'd rather."

"No, I'd like you to come tonight," I replied, nearly pleading with him. "Please?"

"Yeah, okay," he murmured. "If you need me, call me, okay? I left my number by your bed." He cringed. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

I laughed. "It's okay. I know what you meant."

"Good," he sighed, clearly relieved. "So you'll call?"

I nodded. "I promise."

Edward stood up and walked over to me, taking my hands and pulling me to my feet. His hands came up to my face, brushing his thumbs across my skin before he leaned down and kissed me. It was a simple kiss, but the feel of his lips on mine had me breathless.

I stood there in my living room as Edward turned and walked out of my apartment, feeling the loss immediately. It wasn't normal for me to long for him like this, was it? To need him so much my heart ached? Groaning, I picked up my coffee off the floor and carried it into the kitchen, placing my cup in the sink.

The door to my apartment opened again, and I looked back as Carlisle came in.

"I saw Edward leaving," he explained.

I nodded. "He had to go to work."

Carlisle pressed his lips together before he folded his arms in front of him and leaned against the wall.

"You don't like him, do you?" I asked.

"No, I like him," he said. "I just worry about you."

"I'm fine," I lied, knowing he wouldn't believe me.

"Mmhmm," he hummed.

Rolling my eyes, I poured him a cup of coffee before I turned and walked into my bedroom, grabbing the uniform off the floor and tossing it onto the bed.

"You're not seriously going to go back to that shithole, are you?" Carlisle asked, following me.

"I have to," I said, sadly. "He owes me money."

"Bella, the man assaulted you," he argued.

I sighed. "I know."

"Forget about the money he owes you and focus on finding something new. If you can't afford to keep this place, you can move in with me, but don't go back there. Please?"

"It's not just the paycheck he owes me." Sitting on the edge of my bed, I placed my head in my hands. "That place is the only connection I have to the Old Man, Carlisle. The only one I know is real."

"What makes you think Mr. Call is even going to pay you after what happened yesterday?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "For all I know, I'll walk through the doors and he'll freak out on me, but I've got to turn my uniform in and at least try to get my money, right?"

"You're so fucking stubborn," he grumbled, sitting next to me.

"I know," I mumbled. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" he asked.

"Last night, when you told Edward that you knew about me, about my life, did you mean it?"

He tensed, but nodded. "Not everything, but enough to know that you've been through hell."

"Yeah," I whispered. "Is that why you're always here? Because of that?"

"No," he said, smiling. "I'm always here because you're my best friend. My only friend. I'm always here because I need you, too."

"Why do you need me?" I asked.

Carlisle shifted his eyes to the floor. "My father was a drunk, a mean one. He beat my mother all the time, beat me. He, um, was a very successful surgeon, and felt that our imperfections were a reflection of him. Shortly before my sixteenth birthday, the family members of one of his patients sued him, claiming that he had been drunk when he operated on their son. The boy was six years old and had a brain tumor. He, um, was left paralyzed and suffered substantive brain damage. The autopsy showed that my father had severed a nerve during the operation, and one of his nurses filed a report with the hospital's chief of surgery that my father was being belligerent during the surgery. The courts ruled in favor of the family, and my father lost his job. We lost everything. He blamed us, said that we made him drink, that we cost him the life he was meant to have.

"He was out of control, just . . ." Carlisle paused, shaking his head. "He locked me in the basement. I heard her screaming, begging him not to hurt her. I don't know how long he had beat her when I heard the gunshot. I tried to get out, tried to help her, but I couldn't. The door wouldn't budge. He came for me, dragging me into the kitchen. And, um," he whimpered. "She was laying on the floor, covered in blood. My father threw me to the floor next to her and pointed his gun at me. He said he should have killed her when she told him she was pregnant with me. Then he pulled the trigger and shot me."

I inhaled a deep breath.

"The bullet went through my shoulder, and before he could fire another shot, the police busted in and stopped him, but my mother was already dead. He was convicted of her murder and the attempted murder of me. I was placed in foster care until I aged out of the system. I got scholarships to NYU and went to medical school at Cornell. But I couldn't stay in the city, not after that. So I came to Vegas.

"I got a job at University Medical Center and figured I'd just, you know, move on with my life, but I couldn't. I still can't. I was working in the ER one night when a woman and her little boy, who wasn't more than four, came in. They'd been beaten, and I was trying to convince her to leave her boyfriend, but she kept saying that he loved her, that he would stop. I was so frustrated, Bella, because I knew he wouldn't. I knew he would kill them both, but I had no choice but release them. I walked them out to the waiting room, and he was sitting there, waiting for them. I don't know what came over me, but I found myself hitting him over and over and over, screaming at him to never touch them again.

"Security pulled me off of him . . ." He looked over at me. "The guy had a warrant out for an assault on a drug dealer, so the hospital was able to brush it under the rug, but I couldn't stay there, not anymore. I needed a new start, so I quit my job, moved into this dump, met you, and I can honestly say that for the most part, my life isn't too fucking bad."

"So I made your life better?" I asked.

"Well, you made it suck less," he laughed. "Look, I love you, Bella. You're my best friend and the sister I never had. And I don't want you to get hurt. That diner is toxic. Mr. Call is a dangerous man, and I don't want to lose you."

I sighed. "It's not like I have a lot of options. I mean, rents due next week."

"I know. Just think about it, okay? Please?"

I nodded. "Okay, but I'm still going in today."

"Fine, but I'm going with you."

"You don't need to do that," I grumbled.

"I do," he said. "Please?"

I sighed. "Whatever. Just don't start any shit."

"Like I would, he scoffed before he stood up. Turning to me, he smiled. "You really like Edward, don't you?"

Taking a deep breath, I felt my cheeks warm. "I do. It's stupid, but . . . I do."

"Okay." Carlisle stood up and pulled me to my feet. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Meet me in ten."

"All right," I said, rolling my eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, Carlisle and I walked into the diner. Rose was bustling around, trying to fill orders while Jasper was working in the kitchen. And as usual, Mr. Call was perched up behind the register. There was tape across the bridge of his nose and he had a black eye, a busted lip, and a large bruise on his jaw. I nearly smirked, thinking Edward had given him after he grabbed my arm.

"You," he hissed, standing up. "Get out of my diner."

"No," I said, folding my arms in front of me.

"Don't test me, bitch," he snarled.

I felt Carlisle tense behind me and the sound of someone slamming his hand on a table. I looked over my shoulder, finding Sam climbing out of the booth he, Emily, and the girls had been sitting in. He made to walk toward us, but I shook my head. While I appreciated him trying to protect me, Mr. Call was someone I had to deal with myself.

Looking back at Mr. Call, I gathered up as much courage as I could muster before I placed my hands on my hips and said, "You owe me two weeks' pay, and I'm not leaving without my check."

"I don't owe you shit," he snarled. "You closed my diner down for six hours yesterday, which cost me a hell-of-a-lot more than I owe you. In fact, I should be demanding you reimburse me for the difference."

"You could," I said, tossing my uniforms on the counter. "Or I can contact the health inspector and tell them about how you use products that have already expired."

His smirk fell.

"Or how you and Embry skim a little off the day's profits, but don't report them. I'm sure the IRS would find that very interesting."

Mr. Call inhaled a sharp breath as he turned and opened the register. He grabbed a stack of twenties and began counting them out. Looking over at me, he pushed them in my direction. "Take your money and get out."

I gathered the cash, counting it to make sure he hadn't shorted me even a dollar, which he hadn't. "I'd say it was pleasure, but it wasn't."

"I should have gotten rid of you a long time ago," he muttered. "You're nothing more than fine ass and big mouth."

"You're nothing more than a piece of shit, asshole. You ever put your hands on me again, and I will make it my mission to fucking end you," I snarled, and based on the look in his eyes, he believed me. I turned to Rose and Jasper, who had come out of the kitchen. Sighing, I walked over to the counter. "I'm sorry for putting you in an awkward position yesterday, and I'm really sorry that I won't be working with you anymore, either. You have my number, so if you need anything, please call, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Jasper mumbled, while Rose simply nodded.

I hated that I was leaving them there, but I couldn't ask them to leave with me. Like me, they needed the job. Pushing away from the counter, I turned back to Carlisle and motioned for him to follow me.

"Bella," Sam called, and I looked over at him. "You looking for a new job?"

"Yes."

"You still have my number?"

I nodded.

"Give me a call tomorrow. I might have something for you."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

He smiled. "Very. Tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded before I turned and walked out of the diner with Carlisle behind me. He didn't say anything as he wrapped his arm around my waist and we headed back to our building.

**Thank you for all the reviews. Please, leave me a few words and let me know what you thought about this chapter.**


	17. Chapter 17

EPOV

An hour after I left Bella, I walked into Murphy's Law. I had gone home and showered and changed clothes, but my mind had stayed on her, the look on her face as I left, longing filling her eyes. I wanted nothing more than to hold her in my arms again, to kiss her lips, to just . . . have her. I wanted her to be mine, just mine, but I wasn't sure that she ever would be. Carlisle had a huge part of her, and while I understood that they were closer than friends, I wanted to be the one she leaned on. Though, she did say that nobody else knew about her life, so maybe I was the only one she needed.

The bar was a mess when I walked in, but then again, I wasn't surprised. If I wasn't there to make sure things got taken care of, they wouldn't do shit. I spent the day cleaning the place, tossing away the nearly hundred bottles of beers they'd left on the tables and bar top, washing the four dozen glasses, and restocking the hard liquor so we'd be ready for whatever the night brought us.

Late in the afternoon, I heard the back door open and I looked up from the stack of receipts I was sorting through and saw Ben, Alice, Emmett, Rose, and Esme walking in. Esme shifted her eyes to me, and I saw a new bruise just under her jaw. I gritted my teeth as she turned and walked out onto the floor. I should have called her this morning, or stopped by her apartment and made sure she was okay.

"Eddie, what the fuck happened to you last night?" Alice snarled, hopping up onto the bar and placing a stiletto encased foot on my chest, pushing me back so I was looking at her.

"I told you Bella needed me," I mumbled, pushing her foot of my chest. "Nice shoes, by the way."

"Thanks. Bought them off this guy selling them from the trunk of his car back behind that strip club over on tenth. Seemed legit," she said. "So you and Bella, huh?"

I rolled my eyes as I stood up and gathered the receipts. "Not having this convo with you, Ali-Cat."

"You don't need to," she quipped. "I can read you like a book, E. You're so fucking lost in her."

Nodding, I heard myself admitting as much. "She . . . And I . . . I need her, Alice," I whispered. "Need her . . . like she's the air in my lungs. I can't breathe without her."

"Wow, you're so far gone," she murmured, climbing off the bar and placing her hand on my chest. "Is she worth it, Edward?"

"Yeah." And I knew she was. We'd both been through hell, used and abused by people who felt we were payment for a debt owed. Alice didn't say anything else as she turned and walked out onto the floor to help Esme get the place ready. Emmett was sitting next to Rose at the bar so I walked over to them. "How'd it go last night?"

"Not too bad," he said. "A couple of assholes had to be shown the door and Ben got real busy behind the bar, but Rose pitched in and helped."

I looked over at Rose. "Yeah?"

She nodded.

"Thanks," I said.

She shifted her eyes up to mine. "You were with Bella last night, right?"

I hesitated as Emmett looked over at me. "Yeah. She was having kind of a bad night, so . . ."

"She quit her job today," Rose said. "Well, more like Mr. Call fired her, and then fired me and Jasper. But she's not working there anymore."

I frowned. "Yeah, they kind of had a . . . falling out after she took the old man to the hospital. I'm sure she didn't realize that he'd get rid of you two, though. I can talk to Paul, see if he can hire you on here. We could use the help."

Rose hummed out an okay, but didn't say anything else.

"Was she all right?" I asked. "When Bella came in, was she okay?"

Rose shrugged her shoulders. "I guess."

I sighed.

"Are _you_ all right, E?" Emmett asked, and I looked over at him. "You're awfully concerned about her."

"I don't know," I admitted before I turned and walked away. And I didn't. Bella had me feeling things I'd never felt before. I've always been empathetic toward others, but I needed her to be okay. I needed her not to hurt, but being unable to make things better for her had me feeling anxious and uneasy. Why did I feel like my life was tied to hers now?

Murphy's Law was busy, which was both good and bad. I didn't have time to dwell on Bella, but at the same time, she never left my thoughts. By the time, I announced for last call, there were only a handful of people remaining. They paid their tabs and stumbled for the door. Ben left halfway through the night after getting a call from Angela, who was hysterical based on the way her voice flickered through the phone. If I hadn't missed my shift the night before, I probably would have bitched his ass out, but seeing as he had covered for me, I let it go. He was a good guy, and like all of us, he didn't talk about himself. Just another lost soul who found his way to Vegas. Emmett locked up and came over to Rose, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

"You ready to go home, babe?" he asked.

She nodded, but shifted her eyes over to me, like she was unsure it was okay for him to leave.

"Go on," I told her. "I've got everything."

Rose stood up and slipped her hand in with Emmett's, but looked back over at me. "Doubt it means anything coming from me, Edward, but I think Bella's lucky to have you."

"Yeah?" I asked.

She nodded, shifting her eyes to the floor. "Good men are hard to find. Most of them just take what they want regardless of how much it hurts. And we're dumb enough to let them."

"Not anymore," Emmett whispered.

Rose nestled herself around him, almost like she was trying to hold on him, afraid that if she didn't, he would leave her.

Emmett sighed and looked over at Alice, who was balancing a tray of empty bottles on the palm of her hand. "You coming, Ali-Cat?"

She looked at me and then at Esme before nodding. Tipping the bottles into the trash, Alice placed her tray under the bar, and followed Emmett and Rose through the back. A moment later, I heard the backdoor close.

"Same guy this time?" I asked, causing Esme to stop as she reached for an empty glass and look over at me. "The bruise on your jaw, it's from the same guy?"

"Yes," she groused. "Always the same guy."

"The one who was in here the other night?" I pressed and Esme's shoulders tensed. "Why are you covering for him?"

"I'm not," she snarled. "You don't know me, Edward, so stop assuming that you do."

"Look, I'm just trying to help," I argued.

"You can't!" she yelled. "I've fucked up my life, and I take full responsibility for it. You don't need to worry about me anymore."

"I do when you come into the bar looking like someone used you as a punching bag," I spat.

Esme rolled her eyes, folding her arms in front of her chest. "I used to teach. Bet you didn't know that, did you?"

I shook my head.

"I don't look like a teacher anymore, I guess," she murmured. "I taught music in New York, and I always dreamed of what it would be like to found, you know? To have an agent find me singing in some one-mic bar, and whisk me away to L.A., where I'd become this famous rock star. Of course, that shit doesn't happen to people like me."

Esme picked up an empty bottle and tossed it into the trash. "I was singing in this bar called Boondocks one night about a year ago. And, um, I was having a really good set. The place was packed and I could tell they were into my music. After I sang my last song, I thanked everyone for coming out and made my way over to the bar, where I collected my belongings and picked up the fifty-bucks I'd earned for the nights worth, and I felt like I was a fucking millionaire," she muttered, walking around the tables and clearing off the trash.

"I was about two blocks away when this guy grabbed me and pulled me into an alley. He had his hand over my mouth, and he slammed me against the side of the building. I was so scared, just fucking terrified. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, 'you were amazing up there tonight, baby.' I just . . . I didn't know what to say. He was touching me, grinding himself against me. Bile rose in my throat as he reached around and pulled on the button on my pants. He pulled them down, and I heard him unzip his pants," she muttered, looking over at me. "You can imagine what happened next."

I nodded. "More than imagine."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Experience," I replied.

Nodding, she turned back to the table in front of her. "When he was done with me, he threw me to the ground and tossed a hundred bucks at me, saying that I worth every penny, that my crying was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. I waited until he was gone before I pulled myself together and went straight to the hospital. The doctors did a rape kit and called the police, but . . ."

"But?" I asked.

Esme turned back to me. "He's a cop. He and his partner were the ones who showed up to take my statement, and I saw the look in his eye, Edward. If I had pressed charges, he would have killed me. So I lied and said that nothing happened, that I was making it up for attention. He called me a whore and told me I was despicable. I went home, locked myself in my apartment. I knew I couldn't stay in the city, not knowing that he knew where I lived. So I quit my job, packed my shit, and moved here, thinking there was no way he'd be able to find me. For a while, I just lived off my savings, tried to find a teaching job here, but there aren't any openings. Then last week, he showed up at my apartment, wanting another taste, as he put it. I fought him. I fought him so hard, but he . . . and I . . ."

"You told me he didn't rape you," I said. "The morning I came over, you said he didn't rape you."

"He didn't," she replied. "He just beat the fuck out of me and told me that I'd never be able to hide from him. He follows me everywhere, Edward. He's always there, always watching."

I blew out a heavy breath. "So why not press charges on him here? He's from New York, he doesn't any clout here, right?"

"He tracked me across the country, Edward. He found out where I live, where I work. You really think he's going to care if the police arrest him? Besides, they arrested him the other night for cutting Emmett and he was out that night, right? If I go to the police, he will kill me."

"If you don't press charges on him, he's gonna kill you anyway," I argued. "Look, I know how hard it is to move on, to make the decision to say enough is enough."

"You don't know anything," she exclaimed.

"My mother threw me away," I snarled. "She choose drugs over me, Esme. She gave me away for dime bag of crack. I was raped repeatedly by her dealer until he decided I'd paid her debt off and left me naked and bleeding on her doorstep. When I walked into the house, she just looked at me and said, 'Thanks, son. Next time, it won't be as bad.'" I snorted and shook my head. "I was terrified about leaving, but I couldn't stay there because I knew it was only a matter of time before one of them killed me, or I found myself turning to drugs to ease the pain. And I know it won't be easy, but I'm here for you. I won't leave you, Esme."

She frowned. "He knows where I am all the time, Edward. I'll never be free of him."

"You will if you fight back," I said. I walked around the bar until I was standing in front of her. "Just trust me."

"Why should I?" she asked as tears filled her eyes.

"Because you need a friend, and I need to be that friend," I murmured.

Esme blew out a breath. "Can I think about it? It's not something that I can just . . . go and do blindly."

"Yeah," I said, smiling. "But you're not staying at your place alone tonight. I need to stop by and check on someone. You can go with me and then come back to my place. You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

"I'll take the couch," she insisted.

I scoffed. "We'll see about that."

Esme and I finished cleaning the bar before we walked out the back and climbed onto my bike. She wrapped her arms around me, and I hoped like hell Bella would understand why I was bringing her with me. I just couldn't sit back and take the chance of this asshole coming after Esme again.

A few minutes later, I parked in front of Bella's building. Esme looked nervous as she followed me inside, up to the second floor and down to her apartment. I knocked, and a few minutes later the door opened, but instead of it being Bella, I found Carlisle standing there. He looked from me to Esme, his eyes widening.

"Hey," he murmured.

"Hey," she echoed, and I nearly rolled my eyes as I pushed past Carlisle and went searching for Bella.

She was sitting on the floor, the painting of her family propped up against the wall in front of her. I dropped my helmet and keys in the floor and sat down next to her, drawing my knees up to my chest.

"I can't stop looking at it," she whispered, her voice thick and full of emotion. "I replay this memory inside my head, every detail, every moment of it. And it's so real, so . . . fresh. But it's not. It's not real anymore, and I don't know what to do." Bella looked over at me. "Tell me what to do."

"I can't," I said, softly as Carlisle and Esme walked through the living room and into the kitchen.

Her eyes followed them. "Who is she?"

"A friend. I work with her, and . . . she's dealing with some shit," I explained.

Bella nodded and looked back at me. "She was there that night, right? She was the one that assbutt threw against the wall?"

"Yeah," I said. "Is it okay that I brought her over? I mean, I should have asked, but she can't be alone, and I needed to see you."

She smiled. "You needed to see me?"

My face warmed as I nodded.

"I needed to see you, too," Bella murmured, looking over my shoulder. "Plus, it seems like someone else needed to see her."

I looked behind me, almost choking on my tongue when I was Carlisle holding a bag of ice against her jaw, one hand on her hip and their eyes locked on each other. Snorting, I turned back to Bella. "I talked to Rose tonight."

She shifted her eyes back to mine, a frown tugging on her lips. "Oh."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know. Feeling pretty fucked up right now."

"Yeah, I'd imagine so," I muttered.

Carlisle and Esme walked into the living room, drawing Bella's attention to them. "Hey."

"Hey," Esme murmured, shifting her eyes to Bella's painting. "You do that?"

She nodded.

"It's good."

"It's all right. I'm Bella."

"Esme," she replied.

"Are you hungry?" Bella asked.

"What?" Esme looked confused.

"Are you hungry?" she repeated. "I made lasagna. Carlisle and I only managed to eat about half of it, so if you're hungry, I'll make you a plate."

"Oh, um, okay?" she said, looking over at me.

"Well, I'm starving," I said, smiling. "And lasagna is my favorite."

Bella grinned as she scrambled to her feet and walked into the kitchen. I followed, leaning against the cabinet as she made me and Esme a plate.

"Are you going to go see him?" I asked.

She paused for just a moment. "I don't know." Handing me one of the plates, she sighed. "I want to, but at the same time, I'm scared. They sent me away, Edward. Just left me alone with some guy they barely knew. I want to know why. Why they gave me up, why he's been coming into the diner every day, but I'm afraid to know the whys."

"I can understand that," I murmured.

Bella put Esme's plate on the counter before covering the left over lasagna with foil and looking back at me. "Would you go? If it were you, would you go see him?"

"Honestly?"

"No, lie to me," she quipped.

"I would," I admitted. "If for nothing else than to know the whys."

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Would you go with me? If I go, will you go with me?"

"Anywhere," I said, meaning it.

"Okay," she said, picking up Esme's plate and carrying it into the living room. However, when we got in there, we found Carlisle and Esme laying on the couch, him on his back and her laying on top of him. They were fast asleep, and they both had smiles on their faces.

"Guess they were tired," she murmured.

"It's been a long day," I said.

Bella shook her head as she walked into the kitchen and covered Esme's plate with foil, sticking it inside the refrigerator. I scarfed my helping down before putting my dirty plate in the sink, rinsing it off. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me through her apartment and into her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she looked up at me, biting her lip as she peeled off the jeans she was wearing. Kicking them to the side, she walked over to her bed and climbed in, peeling back the other side.

I smiled as I took off my pants and joined her. Bella rolled over and laid her head on my chest.

"Edward?" she whispered.

"Hmm?" I hummed.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?"

"I don't know," she spoke softly, her voice thick with sleep.

"Then you're welcome," I cooed. "Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight."

Keeping my arm wrapped around her, I held Bella as we drifted off to sleep.

**Thank you for all the reviews. Heavy chapters, but they won't be slowing down. We have a lot of angst ahead of us, people. I hope you're prepared for the ride.**


	18. Chapter 18

BPOV

"Bella," Carlisle whispered, shaking my shoulder. I groaned, rolling from my side onto my back, swinging my arm out. It wasn't until my arm came in contact with a hard body that I remembered Edward was in my bed. Prying my eyes opening, I lobbed my head to the side and looked at Carlisle, who was kneeling on the floor next to my bed. "Hey."

"What time is it?" I mumbled, yawning.

"Just after seven," he murmured. "I've got a shift over at the clinic."

"Okay," I whispered, rolling onto my side and bringing my hand up to his face. "Be careful. Please?"

"I will be." Turning, he pressed his lips to the palm of my hand.

"Esme?" Edward mumbled. "Is she still here?"

Carlisle's eyes shifted from me to the man lying next to me. "Yes, but she's going with me."

Edward shifted up on the bed, bracing himself on his elbows and looking over at him. "She is?"

"Yeah," he muttered, his cheeks turning pink. "Figured I'd make sure she was okay or whatever."

Pressing his lips together, Edward inhaled a sharp breath before nodding and falling back onto the bed. "All right then."

Carlisle shifted his eyes to me, pleading with me to understand before he stood up and walked out of my room. I heard him and Esme whispering just moments before the door to my apartment closed. Rolling onto my side, I faced Edward, who was staring at the ceiling.

"I know it's silly," he said. "I don't know her, but I look at her and I see someone who needs me to watch over them, to take care of them. She's family, yet I don't know her."

"That's how I feel about Carlisle," I told him. "I love him, but not like . . . He's my family. The only family I have anymore."

"Except for me," he said, looking over at me. "You have me."

"Do I?" I asked.

Edward frowned as he rolled onto his side and faced me, his hand coming up to cup my face. "The things I feel for you, they're not just friendly. I mean, I care about you. I . . . sometimes, I think I might love you, Bella."

My eyes flew open. "Love?" I whispered.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "I think so, but then again, I've never known love. How do I know?"

"Beats the hell out of me," I scoffed.

"You don't feel the same?" he asked, coyly.

I inhaled a deep breath. "I don't know."

Edward frowned.

"I like you, I do, but . . ." I shook my head. "And I want you, and I need you, but I'm scared. I don't know how to be this kind of person."

"What kind of person?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"Happy," I whimpered. "Normal."

"Normal is overrated," he said with a snort. "I'm not pressuring you into feeling something more for than you do, but I'm not going anywhere, Bella. I told you: I can't stay away from you. Not anymore."

"I — I don't want to you stay away, I don't," I pleaded as tears flooded my eyes.

"And I'm not," he whispered, leaning in and pressing his lips against mine.

Our kiss was slow and sensual, yet needy at the same time. Edward swiped his tongue across my bottom lip, and my lips parted, automatically parted and allowed him access. He moaned as his tongue grazed mine, his hand dropping to my hip and tugging me closer to him. My heart was racing and my body tingled, ached for him. Dragging my hand up his arm, I moved it to his chest, gently pushing him away and ending the kiss.

"Stop," I breathed. "Please, just stop."

"I'm sorry," he murmured and scooted across the bed, sitting up on the side.

"I just need a minute," I whispered, sliding up so that I was leaning against the headboard with my knees pulled up.

"I'm just gonna . . ." He trailed off as he stood up and walked into the bathroom, his hands pressed against the front of his shirt, pulling it down.

I climbed off the bed and walked out of the room and into the kitchen, smiling when I saw a pot of coffee waiting for me. I grabbed two cups from the cabinet and poured us each one. Pulling open the fridge, I looked to see if I had anything to make for breakfast, but other than a half pack of cheese, some bologna, and some lettuce that was welting, I didn't have much. I needed to go grocery shopping, but because my rent was due next week, I wouldn't be able to get much.

Closing the fridge, I picked up the two cups and turned, finding Edward leaning against the doorframe. He'd put his jeans back on, but hadn't buttoned the button, and for a reason that confused me, I liked that he hadn't.

"Oh, hey," I said. "Um, you want cream or sugar?"

"Blacks good, thanks," he said, wrapping his fingers around mine as he slipped the cup from my hand and into his. He brought it to his lips, taking a sip, wincing. "Ugh, no offence, but this tastes like shit."

I laughed. "Carlisle made it. He doesn't quite get the grounds to water ratio. I can make a fresh pot, if you'd like."

"Only if you're going to have some," he said.

Nodding, I turned back the counter and pulled over the tub of coffee, sighing before I even pulled the lid off. "Empty. Guess that means no coffee."

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Don't be." I waved him off as I tossed the empty container in the trash. "Listen, about what happened earlier. I'm sorry. I just . . ."

"Don't be sorry," he said, tightly.

"It's just . . ." I bit my bottom lip. "I've never really kissed anyone other than you," I murmured. "Willingly, at least, and I don't know what to do, or not do."

"You pretty much do it just right," he whispered, chuckling softly. "If it helps, I've never really kissed anyone, either."

"Yeah?" I asked.

Edward nodded. "Everyone in my neighborhood knew what my mom and dad were like. They stayed away from me. There was his one girl, back before . . . the dealer . . . but she couldn't handle being with me, so . . ."

"So, you've never had sex?" I asked, and when he looked up at me, I added, "With a woman, I mean."

Edward's mouth opened and closed three times before he shook his head. "You?"

I smiled. "Nope. I can honestly say that I've never had sex with a woman."

"So, we're even, I guess," he snickered.

"Have you wanted to?" I asked.

"Um," he said, suddenly finding the wood frame around the door interesting. "I mean, I guess so. But I've never allowed myself to get close enough to a woman to go that far." He shifted his eyes to me. "Have you? I mean, have you ever wanted to have sex with a . . . a man?"

"To be honest," I started, "no." Hesitating, I shifted my eyes up to his. "Until you."

Edward's mouth opened and his eyes bulged. "Oh."

"I'm not saying I want to strip my clothes off and do you right here, or anything," I clarified. "It's . . . you make me feel things that I've never felt before. It was always so . . . horrible with _him_. Painful and angry, and . . ." I shook my head, knowing that I wasn't making sense. "You make me want to try to live again."

"Um, wow, okay," he whispered, clearing his throat. "I'm honestly not sure what to say."

"Yeah, me either," I muttered, placing my coffee cup on the counter. "I told you I was fucked up."

"And I told you that I was fucked up, too," he said.

An awkward silence settled over the two of us, and I knew that I'd went too far, pressed for more than I should have. Blowing out a deep breath, I walked past him and into the living room, needing widen the space between us. However, when I found myself standing in front of the painting of my family, the realization of just how fucked up my life was right then came tumbling down on top of my head.

Edward's hands slid across my hips, his arms wrapping around me and nestling me against him. My lips parted and I heard myself speaking without realizing that I was, "I'm scared to go back there, to see him again."

"That's understandable," he murmured, pressing his lips against the top of my head. "But you need to."

"I do?" I asked.

He nodded. "You're always going to wonder if you don't."

"I will," I admitted, tilting my head back and looking up at him. "Will you still go with me?"

"Anywhere," he whispered, and I found myself believing that Edward would go to the ends of the earth with me if I asked him to.

"Can we go now?" I asked. "If I don't, I might chicken out."

He smiled. "Let's go."

—SMTS—

An hour later, Edward and I standing in front of University Medical Center, and I was trying to get the courage to go inside. I'd wasted as much time as I could at my apartment by taking a shower, washing the few dishes from the night before, making a point to stop by my landlord's apartment and paying my rent. Finally, Edward had enough and dragged me over to his motorcycle, thrust his spare helmet into my hands and ordered me to climb on behind him. Though I wanted to tell him no, that I'd changed my mind, I didn't. Instead, I stuffed that helmet onto my head and slid my leg over the black seat of his bike and wrapped my arms around his waist, holding on for dear life as he pulled away from the curb and drove toward the hospital. Yet, as I stood there, I couldn't seem to stop shaking, to will my feet to move, or tear my eyes away from the front of the building.

"Bella," he said, sliding his arm around my waist. "Come on. You can do this."

"I . . . I . . ." Tears sprinkled down my face as I shook my head. "What if it's him?"

"Then it's him," he murmured.

"What if it isn't him?" I cried, unsure which one I wanted the most.

"Then it's not," he said, moving so that he was standing in front of him. His hands came up to cradle my cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the moisture. "But you need to know one way or the other. Now, come on."

Nodding, I released a soft breath and grabbed his hand, needing someone to hold onto. Edward led me into the hospital and over to the visitor's center, asking which room Charlie Swan was in. The sound of my father's name leaving his mouth was surreal. She smiled and told him that the old man had been moved to the fifth floor and was in room 514. Thanking her, Edward nearly dragged me over to the elevator, keeping his fingers wrapped tightly around mine as we stepped on.

The ride up to the fifth floor was tense and awkward. When the elevator opened, we stepped out and searched the signs for which direction we needed to go in. Going toward the left, we walked down a short hallway, finding ourselves standing in front of room 514 before I could as much as blink. The door to his room was open.

The old man was laying on the bed, hooked up to tubes, wires, and monitors. Sitting next to his bed with his feet propped up against the railing was a young man with dark brown hair that had a slight wave to it. Before I could say anything, someone cleared their throat behind me and I spun around, finding myself face to face with a thin woman with shoulder-length light brown hair and bright blue eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said, smiling. The moment she spoke, I felt my heart began to race and tears flood my eyes. Her voice was one that I'd dreamed about for years, yearned to hear. Her voice belonged to my mother. "Are you okay?"

"Mom?" the man inside the room asked, and I turned and looked at him as he stood up. He was tall, just over five-feet and had bulky shoulders. He looked from me to the woman standing in front of me. "Who's this?"

"I don't know," she replied, and I looked back over at her watching as she held out her hand toward me. "I'm Renee Swan. You are?"

I shook my head frantically as I stepped back against Edward. "You're Renee Swan?" I whispered, unable to keep the tears from falling down my face.

"That's what I just said," she replied, frowning. "This is my son Marcus," she added, gesturing to the man standing the old man. "Now, who are you?"

I opened my mouth to respond when we heard grunting coming from the old man. I snapped my eyes over to him, surprised when that he had his open and that he was looking right at me. "I . . . I . . . Isa . . ." he stammered, a whining noise leaving him as he shook his head. He lifted his hand, reaching toward me, and before I could stop myself, I found myself next to his bed, his hand wrapped firmly in mine. "Isa . . ."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I cried, bringing his hand up to my cheek. "Two years, old man. Two fucking years!"

He opened his mouth, but promptly closed it.

"I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?" Marcus demanded, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me away from the old man, who whined as his hand slipped out of mine.

I shrugged his hand off of me and looked at him. My lips trembled as my eyes shifted from him to Renee to the old man, and I said, "Isabella. Isabella Marie Swan."

Renee's hand flew to her mouth as she stumbled backward. Marcus looked from me to her rushing over just before her knees buckled and she passed out.

**Thank you for all the reviews. Everyone still with me?**


	19. Chapter 19

EPOV

"Get out," Marcus gritted, turning a glare-full eye toward Bella as he held his mother's limp body off the ground. "I don't know who the fuck you are, but you are not Isabella Swan."

She flinched away from him, right into me. I placed my hands on her hips, unsure of what to say or do. The old man mewled, causing Bella, Marcus, and I to look over at him. He was staring at Bella, his hand stretched out to her. Bella took a step toward him, but Marcus yelled for her to, "Stop!"

She whimpered and fell back against me. I could feel her body trembling, and it was taking all my strength not to rush across the room and slam that asshole against the wall. But Bella needed me, and I couldn't let her down.

Renee moaned, drawing everyone's attention to her. Her eyes flittered open and she placed her hand on Marcus's chest and looked at Bella. Pain and anguish filled her expression, and I felt Bella tremble even more.

"Isabella," Renee whimpered, trying to walk to her, but Marcus wouldn't let her.

"Mom, stop," he whispered. "You're too weak."

"I'm fine, honey," she murmured, placing a loving hand on his cheek before turning back to Bella. "You're Isabella."

Bella nodded, her eyes flittering between her, Marcus, and the old man.

"Bullshit," Marcus snarled, causing her to flinch backward again.

"Dude, calm down," I warned.

He shifted his attention to me, his jaw tightening. "And who are you supposed to be? Hmm?"

"Edward and I'm with her." I tilted my head to Bella, who was weeping softly. "And she's scared enough just being here, so drop the attitude and calm the fuck down."

The old man groaned, and everyone looked over at him. He still had his hand stretched out to Bella. A soft sob trickled out of her mouth as she wrapped her fingers around his, holding his hand against her chest, ignoring the growl coming from Marcus.

"You've known since you started coming in, didn't you?" Bella cried, tears sliding down her face.

The old man's head barely moved up and down, his own eyes full of moisture.

"Why didn't you say something?" she pleaded.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Marcus groaned, causing Bella to look at him. "Look, I don't mean to be rude. But we've been here and done this too many times. You're not the first bitch to come around, claiming to be Isabella. You probably won't be the last, either."

The old man whined and Marcus looked over at him. Sighing, he made sure his mother was safely on her feet before he walked over to the other side of the bed and took hold of his hand. The old man gave it a feeble pull, trying to get him to touch Bella. However, Marcus pulled away.

"No, Dad," he murmured. "It's wishful thinking, just like every other time."

The old man shook his head, groaning again. "I . . . I . . . Isa."

Marcus's eyes closed for a moment before he looked over at Renee, who was standing in the doorway of the room, her arms wrapped around her torso, and tears sliding down her face. "I'm sorry, Mom, but . . . it's . . . it's impossible."

"I was born on September thirteenth, in Forks, Washington," Bella whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. "When I was three, my little brother was born. I was upset so my d . . . d . . . dad," she cried and I placed my hands on her hips, "brought me some watercolors because I liked the pretty colors, and I drew a picture of me, and my mom and dad and my brother. My mom loved it so much that she framed it and hung it in the living room."

Renee gasped, moving her hands to her mouth, while Marcus just stared at Bella. "Oh, my God."

"That doesn't prove anything," Marcus muttered, shaking his head.

"I don't have to prove anything to you," Bella groused. "I know who I am."

"Who you think you are," he countered. "You wouldn't be the first to claim to be from Forks, or to be an artist."

"But she knows about the drawing," Renee cried, stepping toward Bella, but Marcus was by her side immediately, pulling her back. "Marcus."

"No, Mom, I won't let you get your hopes up again," he said, firmly. Taking a deep breath, he looked over at Bella. "I'm sorry, but you need to leave."

"Marcus, no," Renee cried, struggling his against his hold and reaching for Bella.

"No," he yelled, turning and wrapping his arms around her. "She's just another gold digger, looking for a piece of the family fortune."

"I . . ." Bella trailed off, her chest heaving as she looked around the room. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

Sliding her hand into mine, she pulled me toward the doorway. However, she stopped when the old man started whining, and when we looked back at him, saw him thrashing around in the bed. Marcus was by his side in an instant, doing his best to hold his father still. Bella's face crumpled in horror before she released my hand and took off running out of the room.

I looked from Marcus to Renee. "Sorry."

Bella was slamming her finger on the button next to the elevator when I caught up to her. I wrapped my arms around her, nestling her against me as we waited for the doors to slide open. They'd just began to part when Renee yelled, "Isabella, wait."

She turned to the woman, fear and grief etched on her face and shook her head. "Just forget about me. You did it once. Shouldn't be hard to do it again."

Before anyone could reply, Bella dragged me into the elevator with her, laying her head on my chest. The door closed behind us and she began to sob. For the first time in years, I felt helpless, and I didn't like it. I needed to make things easier for Bella, better for her, and I wasn't. She had been resistant to going to see him, but I'd pushed her. Too far, and now she was hurting.

The doors to the elevator opened and I managed to walk us through the lobby without drawing too much attention. However, we'd just walked through the front doors when someone reached out and grabbed my arm. Out of instinct, I pushed Bella away as I turned and raised my arm toward whoever had touched me.

"Whoa," Marcus said, putting his hands up in front of him and looking from me to Bella.

"What do you want?" I growled, my fingers curving into a fist.

Marcus looked from me to Bella. "My mother would like to do a DNA test."

"Why?" she asked. "I'm a liar, right? And a fraud?"

His jaw tightened. "Look, I'm sorry. But you have to understand where I'm coming from. My sister was kidnapped fifteen years ago, and —"

"Kidnapped?" Bella gasped. "They sent me away. To him, to live with a monster."

"Who? My parents?" Marcus scoffed. "My sister, the real Isabella Swan, was kidnapped when she was seven."

Bella shook her head, frantically, her eyes flittering from me to him. "No. No. NO! They gave me away. He . . . told me they sent me away."

"Who?" Marcus asked, but Bella clamped her lips shut. "If you really are my sister, then tell me who took you."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she stumbled backward, her arms wrapping tightly around her body. "His name was Phillip Dwyer."

Turning, Bella started walking away. I looked over at Marcus, who was watching her. "You really don't believe her?" I asked, drawing his attention to me.

"I want to," he said, his lips trembling. "More than anything I want to, but we've done this before dozens of times. And every time I sit there and watch my mother lose a little part of her soul when the tests come back and the woman claiming to be my sister isn't really her. My father, he's . . ." Marcus shook his head. "I want to believe her, but . . . I can't. Not without proof. Get her to do the DNA test. Please."

I pressed my lips together and looked back at Bella, who was standing next to my bike. "I don't know."

"Here's my card. My cell and home numbers are on it," he said, and when I turned back to him, he was holding out the small, rectangular card. "Please, just take it. Think about it, talk to her. I'm not normally such an asshole, but my parents have been hurt enough. I have to protect them."

Though I wasn't sure I was making the right decision, I found myself taking the card from him. "I'll think about it." Sliding it into my pocket, I turned and started to walk away, but stopped after a few steps and looked back at him. "The old man, he's going to be okay?"

"His name is Charlie, and he's got a long recovery ahead of him, but he should be fine," Marcus told me.

I nodded, and walked away from him. Bella didn't say anything as I handed her a helmet and climbed onto my bike. She slipped her arms around me and held me tight as I pulled away from the hospital and toward the bar. I knew she wouldn't want to be there, but I had to work tonight, and I needed her to be close to me. She'd had a horrible day, and I couldn't help feeling responsible. I'd pushed her to go and see the old man, and it had backfired. I didn't deserve her, but I hoped like hell that she wouldn't leave me.

When I turned down the alley behind the bar, I felt Bella tense around me. Stopping, I waited for her to get off before I walked it next to the dumpster, knowing that it would hide away from anyone looking for a free ride. Sliding off the bike, I turned and faced her.

"Is this okay?" I asked.

"Um," she murmured, looking over at the door. "Are you sure it's safe in there?"

"I won't let anyone hurt you, Bella," I told her, and she shifted her attention to me.

"What'd he want?" she asked. "M . . . Marcus. What'd he want?"

"He wants me to talk you into doing the DNA test," I told her. "But I won't."

"Why not?"

I sighed. "Because it's not up to me. It's . . . you . . ." I trailed off, feeling frustrated.

"Would you do it?"

Shifting my eyes up from the ground, I looked at her. "I don't know."

"Then I don't know, either," she whispered. "Is it possible that they didn't give me away? That I was taken?"

"I think anything is possible," I admitted.

"Fifteen years," she whimpered, her arms wrapping around herself. I walked over to her, nestling her in my embrace as she cried.

We'd been in the alley for a few minutes when we heard Emmett, Alice, and Rose coming down the alley. Bella immediately pulled herself away from me, wiping the moisture off her cheeks. I tried not to take it personal, knowing how hard she worked at keeping herself together so that nobody saw how much she was hurting.

"Sweetheart!" Emmett exclaimed, smiling as he looked from me to Bella. Her face crumbled, though, causing him to frown. "I'm sorry. I meant Bella, not sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," she whimpered. "Please, just anything but that."

His frown growing, he nodded. "Sure, sure no problem. I'm . . . I'm sorry."

Bella nodded.

"Um, here," I said, tossing Emmett my keys. "We'll be there in a second."

"Yeah, sure, okay," he muttered, motioning for Rose and Alice to follow him inside.

Once they were inside, I reached out and pulled Bella back into my arms, one hand resting on the back of her head while the other arm wrapped around her back. "I can take you home, if you want."

"I want to be with you," she whispered. "I'm just scared. It's . . . He called me sweetheart when he was . . . 'Come on, sweetheart, you know you like it.' 'You owe me for this life, sweetheart.' I hate that nickname. It's . . . it makes my skin crawl."

"He won't use it again," I vowed, knowing that Emmett wouldn't now that he's seen just how upset Bella was over it. "Are you ready to go inside?"

She nodded. "Promise it'll be safe?"

"I do," I said, hoping like hell that I wasn't promising more than I could deliver.

When Bella and I walked inside, Rose was already seated at the far end of the bar, while Emmett and Alice were pulling the chairs off the top of each table. Once I had her settled next Rose, I tried to focus on getting the bar ready for the night. Ten minutes before we were due to open, Carlisle and Esme came walking through the back. They were holding hands and giggling like a couple of love-stricken teenagers. It was both oddly sweet and horribly disgusting.

"Cutting it kind of close, aren't you?" I asked, lifting my eyebrow at Esme.

She immediately dropped his hand and grimaced. "Fuck off, Edward."

I laughed, knowing that she didn't really mean it. Carlisle walked around the bar and took the seat next to Bella. I tried not to get jealous when she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. I wanted to be the only man holding her like that, the only one soothing away her fears. But I wasn't because she needed him, and somehow, I was going to have to learn to deal with him.

"Yo, Edward, we ready?" Emmett hollered from his seat next to the door.

With a quick glance around the bar, I nodded. "Release the hounds, Em."

He snorted before unlocking the front door and allowing the masses to start trickling in. As they crowded around the bar, demanding beers, shots of tequilas, and glasses of scotch, I saw Bella tense, her shoulders tight and ridged. Carlisle brought his hand up to her back, leaning in and whispering something in her ear. She nodded, but didn't relax.

Once I had everyone settled, I grabbed Bella and Rose a bottle of water before pulling out a beer for Carlisle. I set them in front of them, and said, "You okay?"

Bella shook her head. "No."

"Stupid question," I muttered. Carlisle snorted, but I ignored him. "Want something stronger?"

Bella smiled. "No, thanks. I . . . I don't drink outside of my apartment, where I know it's safe."

"Make sense," I said, nodding. Someone on the other side of the bar called out for me, so I headed over.

The night was busy, and I barely had time to talk to Bella. Every time I looked over at her, I found her watching me, a mixture of emotions on her face. Everything from happiness to hope to fear and longing. And I knew, without a doubt, that she saw the same emotions on my face, as well.

Once we had the bar cleaned up and everything closed down, I walked over to where Emmett, Rose, Carlisle, Esme, Alice, and Bella were sitting. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm exhausted."

"Me too," Alice groused, yawning. "Tonight was insane. Too many drunks for one place."

"No shit," Esme murmured, laying her head on Carlisle's shoulder. He smiled and turned as he pressed his lips against the top of her head.

"Well, we should probably get the fuck out of here," Emmett said, sliding off his stool and holding his hand out to Rose, who smiled as she took it. He looked over at Bella. "You coming back tomorrow, Ninja-girl?"

"Ninja-girl?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Nodding, Emmett smirked. "You're quick and feisty, like a ninja. Plus," he paused, shifting his eyes to me first, "I think you're a dangerous creature, Bella."

"Dangerous? Me?" she scoffed.

"Mmhmm," he hummed. Sliding his arm around Rose's waist, he reached out and motioned for Alice to follow as he led the two of them through the back. A moment later, I heard the back door close.

"I don't think I like him," Bella muttered.

I laughed. "Em's a good guy. Loyal and protective over those he cares about."

"If you say so," she groused, sliding off her stool. "My ass hurts from sitting here all night."

"Mine, too," Carlisle laughed, turning and leaning against the bar. He looked over at Esme. "You ready?"

Smiling and blushing, she nodded.

"Ready for what?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow at her.

Esme opened her mouth three times before huffing. "Carlisle offered to let me stay with him for a few days, while the police search for . . . the man who attacked me."

"You filed charges?"

She nodded. "This afternoon. I'm terrified, but . . . you were right. I can't keep living in fear."

"I'm proud of you," I told her. "If you need anything . . ."

"Yeah, I know," she whispered. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Carlisle leaned over and whispered in Bella's ear, causing her to smile before she nodded and brought her hand up to his face. The gesture was so simple, yet intimate. And once again, I found myself struggling to contain my jealousy. Turning his head, he kissed her cheek. Carlisle wrapped his arm around Esme's waist and led her through the back of the bar, leaving just me and Bella.

She sighed and looked over at me. "I've never seen him so happy."

"He's a good guy, right?" I asked. "He won't hurt her?"

Bella shook her head. "He's . . . Well, he's an asshole sometimes, but he's the kind of guy who will show up at two in the morning because you wake up screaming in the middle of the night and can't get the voices to shut up. And he'll just sit there and talk until everything feels better." Pausing, she brought her hand up to her chest as tears filled her eyes. "He's like you, Edward, but different because I need to feel your hands on me. I . . . I need you to . . ."

"To what?" I asked.

"I need you to . . . need me," she whispered.

I walked around the bar, bringing my hands up to her face, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I do need you. With every part of my heart and soul, Bella, I need you."

"Take me home," she murmured. "Take me to your home."

"My apartment?" I asked.

She nodded. "Please?"

"Um, yeah, sure, okay," I laughed. "It's shitbox, though. I mean, it'll make your place look like a palace."

"I doubt that," she giggled.

"You'll see."

Ten minutes later, she and I were standing in the middle of my living room. She pressed her lips together and looked around at my ratty, used couch, rickety coffee table, and keyboard. Biting her lip, she walked over to the keyboard and ran her fingers over the keys.

"You play?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I said. "Lately, though, I haven't been able to. Mental block or something."

"Yeah, me too," she replied. "I find myself sitting in front of my canvas and just staring."

"Why do you still paint?" I asked, causing her to look over at me. "After he . . . used you like that, how can you still paint?"

"Um," she murmured, shaking her head. "When I left him, I thought I was leaving that part of my life behind. You know, fresh start or whatever, but it's like . . . it's a part of me. One night, I was having a really hard time. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I just . . . And, um, Carlisle had been shoving glasses of vodka in my hands, trying to dull the voices inside my head, but it wasn't working. He passed out, because he was a bit of a lightweight at the time. I don't know why, but I found myself sitting on the floor with a marker, and I was just drawing. It didn't make sense, it was crap, but I felt better. So when I got paid, I bought some paints. I covered my walls with the images that made no sense to me. Eventually I had to re-paint my apartment because my landlord threatened to evict me if I didn't. Carlisle bought me some canvases and the rest is history." She looked over at me, laughing softly. "Sorry. I tend to ramble."

"It's okay," I said. "I think it's cute."

Her cheeks warmed, and I laughed. I grabbed her hands and led her into my bedroom. "It's late."

"And it's been a long day." Bella bit her lip as she began to unbutton her pants, sliding them down her legs and kicking them to the side. She walked over to my bed, pulling back my blankets. "Which side do you sleep on?"

"Doesn't matter," I told her as I kicked off my shoes and peeled my pants off. Bella slipped into the bed, sitting with her knees up to her chest. I walked around the bed and climbed in next to her, rolling onto my side and watching her. "What are you thinking?"

"I was thinking about the old man. Charlie, or whoever," she admitted. "For two years, he came into the diner every day. He barely said five words to me. But he knew, or at least suspected that I was his daughter. Why didn't he say something?"

"I don't know," I told her. "He's the only one with that answer."

She nodded and leaned her head on her knees, looking over at me. "I think I have to do the DNA test. I have to know. They need to know."

Sliding my arm between her knees and abdomen, I pulled her down into my arms, holding her against my chest. "I think you're right."

"I'm scared," she cried. "Everything is going to change."

"It is." And it already had. For better or worse was still to be determined, however.

**Thank you for all the reviews. Can't wait to hear your thoughts about this chapter.**


	20. Chapter 20

BPOV

The most beautiful music pulled me from a peaceful slumber, the first I'd had in too long. I reached for Edward, expecting him to be lying next to me, but he wasn't. My eyes opened and I looked around his room, but he wasn't there. The door to his bedroom was open, and I climbed out of bed and walked into the living room, stopping when I saw Edward sitting at his keyboard. His eyes were closed and his fingers were flying across the key. There was so much passion in his music, so much energy. It was amazing and breathtaking, and I had the sudden urge to paint him.

"I can feel you staring at me," he murmured, his eyes opening and looking at me with a smile on his face. "Did I wake you?"

I nodded. "How'd you learn to play?"

Edward inhaled a deep breath as he finished his song and let his hands fall into his lap. "There, um, was this little old lady who lived in our building. She used to sit by her window and look out at all the kids playing on the sidewalks and in the street. She always had music playing. Mostly classical, but blues and jazz, too. And, um, when I was eight, things got bad at home. My dad had lost another job and they were flushing every cent they did have on drugs. They were fighting, and when I was around, they um . . . Well, let's just say things got bad and I wasn't spending a lot of time at home. One day, after about three weeks of finding shit to do, Mrs. Delaney asked me to come help her move some stuff around in her apartment. She offered to pay me, so I took her up on it. She had dozens of boxes full of records."

Edward paused and smiled. "She pulled out a B. B. King album and played it. It was . . . it was like being in the most loving embraces. I loved it. It felt . . ."

"Natural," I whispered, causing him to look up at me. "That's how I feel with my art. I can't not paint."

"Exactly," he chuckled. "Um, anyway, Mrs. Delaney told me I could come listen to her records anytime I wanted. I was there every day. First thing in the morning until late at night. I listened to every single one she had, just let them sink into my soul until I knew them by heart. One day, about four months later, my parents had a really bad fight, and I'd gotten in the way. Mrs. Delaney found me hiding in the laundry room. She took one look at the bruises on my arms and face and wrapped me in her arms. I thought she was taking me to her apartment, but she didn't. Instead, she took me down the street to the ice cream parlor and bought me a big, chocolate sundae. When I was done with it, she leaned up and placed her elbow on the table and asked me who my favorite musician was. I immediately said Hampton Hawes."

"Who was he?" I asked.

Edward stood up and walked past me into the kitchen. I followed, watching as he started a pot of coffee. "He was a jazz pianist from the fifties. His sound is amazing. Smooth like silk, full of emotional and raw power. Mrs. Delaney nodded and tossed my empty ice cream dish in the trash. She told me to follow her, and I did. She led me three more blocks away to a small pawn shop. I'd been in places like that before when my parents needed money. They'd sell everything they could get their hands on, anything for their next hit."

He poured us both a cup of coffee, gesturing to the sugar and creamer, which I refused with a shake of my head. "I stood there while she looked over the keyboards. After twenty minutes, she pointed to this huge, black one and said she wanted it. She and the guy haggled over the price, but she managed to get him to give it to her for less than half of the ticket price," he laughed. "Nobody argued with Mrs. Delaney. Anyway, she and I carried it back to her apartment and we set it up on her dining room table. I turned to leave, but she placed her hand on my shoulder and told me to sit down, so I did. She said that someone like me needs a passion. So she began to teach me how to play. We started with the basics. I just fell in love with it. It's all that got me through the day."

Edward turned and leaned against the counter. "She died in her sleep about a year before my dad overdosed. She was the only person I had, you know? The only one who'd ever given a fuck about me." He shook his head. "She called social services on my parents when I was nine, told them my parents were abusing me. They barely looked around, listened to my parents crying about how they were looking for work and how they loved me." Edward snorted. "After they left, my dad beat the fuck out of me. I could barely move when he was done.

"After she died, I thought I'd never get to play again. And then my dad died, and my mom turned against me even more. I just tried to survive. When I got to Vegas and found my job over at the bar, I used my first paycheck and bought my keyboard. I spent every moment I could relearning how to play, letting the music be my companion."

"You're very good," I said, softly. "Do you write your own music, too?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I try, but lately it hadn't really been working for me."

"Yeah, my muse left me," I murmured, leaning against the counter next to him. I laid my head on his shoulder. "I like listening to you play. It was . . . inspiring."

"Yeah?" he asked, and I nodded. "You inspire me."

I wasn't sure what to say so instead I laughed and pushed way from the counter, walking back into the living room.

"Something I said?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'm just not used to anyone being so . . . nice."

"That's me," he scoffed, sitting on the couch. "Mr. Nice Guy."

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing," I fretted, sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

"No, I know." He closed his eyes for a moment before looking over at me. "What's your plans for today?"

"Um, well, I should probably go to the market and buy food. And one of my customers from the diner told me to call him about a possible job opportunity, so I guess I need to make the call."

"What kind of job?" Edward asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know."

"Hmm," he hummed.

There was a look on his face that had me frowning. "What?"

"Nothing," he groused.

"Clearly it's not nothing," I said, feeling my heart race. "Are . . . are you mad at me?"

"No," he replied. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"I — I don't know," I whimpered, struggling to keep my breathing even.

"Hey, calm down." Edward reached out and grabbed my hands, bringing them up to his lips. "I'm not mad, I swear."

Closing my eyes, I nodded. "His name is Sam. He and his wife Emily were . . . or are regulars. They have two little girls, Bridgett and Cassie, who are beautiful and . . ." I smiled as I looked over at him. "Sam's one of the good guys. He doesn't put up with a lot of bullshit, and has stepped up before when people are assholes toward me. So when he tells me that he has a job for me, I feel the need to at least call him."

"Okay," Edward said. "You don't have to explain anything you do to me, Bella."

"I'm just not used to this," I mumbled.

"Me either," he admitted. "Are you going to call Marcus?"

Felt my shoulder tense. "I don't know what to say to him."

"Are you having second thoughts about doing the test?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I need to know. If they're really my family, I need to know, but I'm scared because if they are my family, I don't know how I'm going to be able to handle that."

Edward pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. "I think you just take it one step at a time. You know, do the test. And then take it from there."

"Yeah, maybe," I murmured.

I sat in Edward's lap for several minutes before I headed into his bedroom and fished my cell phone out of my jeans. While Edward piddled around his apartment, I did my bed to settle my nerves and called Sam. The phone rang three times before I heard a click and a rushed, "Hello."

"Sam," I whispered.

"Yeah, this is Sam. Who's this?" he asked.

"Um, it's Bella," I stammered. "From Call's Diner."

"Oh, hey," he said, sounding cheerful. "I was starting to think you weren't going to call."

"Yeah, sorry," I muttered. "Things just . . . got insane."

"I understand that," he scoffed. "So, I'm assuming that you're calling because you're interested in the job offer?"

"I'd like to at least hear about it," I said.

"And I'd like to tell you, but not over the phone," he explained. "Can you meet me for lunch? Say at eleven-thirty at Garcia's? On me, of course."

I bit my lip. "Um, yeah, I guess so. Can I ask you a question first?"

"Sure."

"Why me?" I asked.

Through the phone, I heard Sam sigh. "Because you matter."

And before I could reply, he hung up. Frowning, I tossed my phone on the bed and walked back into the living room, once again finding Edward bent over his keyboard. He smiled and looked up at me.

"How'd it go?"

"Um, good I guess. I mean, he didn't give me any details," I explained, and when he lifted an eyebrow, I added, "He wants to treat me to lunch over at Garcia's."

"Oh," was all he said before looking back down at his sheet music. "I've heard they have good food."

"Yeah."

"I have to go into the bar early," he said, looking back up at me. "Got to be there for a delivery. Will you come by afterward? You can come in through the back."

"Yeah, okay," I agreed. "I should probably get going. I need to shower and . . ."

Edward nodded as he stood up and walked around his keyboard, wrapping his arms around my. His lips found mine. "I'll see you later."

"Mmhmm," I murmured.

—SMTS—

I showed up at Garcia's five minutes early, only to find Sam already there. He stood up as the hostess led me to the table, pulling my chair back and giving me a genuine smile. It was odd and comforting and I wasn't sure what to make of it. I mean, I knew Sam wasn't flirting; he was happily married to Emily, but he wasn't normally this . . . charming?

Instead of the polyester uniform he typically wore, he was wearing a pair of dark slacks and a white dress shirt. The hostess asked me what I'd like to drink. Stammering, I ordered a glass of ice tea. The moment she was gone, Sam leaned forward, placing his elbow on the table.

"You look like you're about to puke," he laughed.

"Kind of feeling like it," I admitted. "Sorry, I'm just not used to this kind of stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" he asked. "Eating somewhere other than that diner?"

I nodded. "I don't . . . I didn't make a lot there. I learned to be thrifty."

"Suppose you did," he murmured, leaning away from me as our waitress placed an ice tea in front of us both.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked, her eyes flickering from him to me and back.

"I'll take my usual," he ordered.

She smiled and nodded before turning back to me. "And for you?"

"Um," I mumbled, picking up the menu.

"She'll take the same as me," Sam said, flashing me a polite smile. "I promise you'll like it."

"Okay," I replied, closing the menu and handing it to her.

"I'll get these right out." And with that, she was gone.

"So." Sam leaned forward again. "The job."

"Yeah, the job," I echoed. "I feel like I should tell you now that I don't have a lot of experience doing anything other than working at the diner. It's really the only job I've ever had."

Sam put a hand up. "Whoa, just hold on, okay? Let me explain what I'm offering and then we can discuss whether or not you're right for the position."

"Okay," I said.

"First, I run a small security company. Businesses, such as the casinos, hire me to come in and test their teams, evaluate their systems, and advise in ways to increase their coverage. For the last few months, my team and I have been working inside various casinos, which is why I've been wearing the uniform from the MGM Grand. Normally, Emily runs my office, but with the girls getting older and Cassie starting school in the fall, she wants to step back, which means I need someone to run the day to day operations of my business."

"And you think that's me?" I asked.

"I do," he said with a smile.

I scoffed. "You're insane."

"And why is that?"

"Because I don't know the first thing about running an office," I exclaimed. "I can barely use a computer!"

"Emily will train you," he said, like it wasn't a big deal.

I shook my head.

"Bella, look, I know I'm taking a gamble here, but I believe that you have more potential than serving slop to a bunch of drunken assholes," he quipped. "And Emily agrees with me."

I fell back in my seat, unsure of what to say. Our waitress choose that moment to place our food in front of us. Sitting on the two royal blues plates were bacon cheeseburger and cheese-fries. Sam thanked her before popping one of his fries into his mouth.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, unable to keep the quiver from lacing my words. "You don't know me, Sam. For all you know, I'm a criminal."

"I know more than you think," he replied, causing my eyes to widen. "I get paid to be observant, Bella. I knew immediately that you'd been through hell."

"I see," I said, picking a fry off my plate. "So you're what? Offering me this job out of pity?"

"No. I'm offering you this job because for a year now, I've been watching you. Watching the way you interact with your customers, going the extra step to ensure that their trip to the diner was the best it could be. And I watched you with the old man, your father," he said with caution.

I inhaled a sharp breath. "You knew who he was and didn't tell me?"

"No," he was quick to deny. "I only learned that the old man was your father recently. I don't know all the details, Bella, but from what I do know, after you were abducted, your father . . . struggled. He . . . never got over your kidnapping and slowly over time, began to change. Then about six years ago, he disappeared. Walked away from everything. His wife, his son, everything. It wasn't until you rushed him to the hospital that he resurfaced."

I brought my hand up to my chest, tears flooding my eyes. "So you're saying that I was kidnapped? That my parents didn't send me away?"

Sam nodded.

A sob trickled out of my mouth. Sam reached for my hand, but I pulled away. "Don't touch me."

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said, leaning away from me.

"And so that means you know about _him_?" I asked. "The man who . . ."

"Yes, I know about Phil Dwyer," he murmured.

A tear trickled down my face, followed by another and another. Standing up, I cried, "I'm sorry. I have to go."

Sam nodded. "Think about the job offer. No pressure, just think about it."

Weeping softly, I told him I would and rushed out of the restaurant feeling like even more than a freak than I normally did. Everything I thought I knew was falling apart, and I didn't know what to do. For fifteen years, I'd believed that my parents sent me away, that they hadn't wanted me anymore, but now, it seemed like everything I thought I knew was nothing but one big lie.

**Thank you for all your reviews. Thoughts on Sam's offer?**


	21. Chapter 21

EPOV

I made it to the bar just after noon, finding Paul standing behind the bar with his arms folded in front of him and scowl on his face. The last person I wanted to deal with right now was that fucker. He was an asshole, who spent less than five minutes in the place if he could help it.

He'd inherited the bar from his father. Paul Sr. had been the one to hire me when I was fresh to Vegas. I'd only been here for a few months and I'd been bouncing between one shitty job to another when he found me digging through the dumpsters out back, looking for anything to eat, or drink. He brought me into the bar, gave me a bowl of peanuts, and a beer, ignoring the fact that I was only seventeen at the time. He never asked me why I was on the streets, instead he asked me if I had a job. When I told him I was in between jobs, he offered me one working the front door with Emmett. Then last year, right after I turned twenty-one, he trained me to run the place, saying that he needed someone he could trust in charge. He passed away six months ago, leaving the place to his son, who was a major douche.

"Would you like to explain to me why you've closed this dump down early three nights over the last two weeks?" he asked without bothering to look over at me.

"Not really," I replied, walking around him and grabbing the clipboard from under the counter and began to inventory the liquor. We'd have a busy night tonight, seeing as it was Friday, and I needed to make sure the bar was fully stocked. With a delivery coming in an hour, I wanted to have a list of what needed to be left out and what could be moved into the storage room.

"Look here, Masen," Paul sneered, grabbing my arm and attempting to force me to face him. My eyes shifted to his hand and back up to his face, and he released me. Wise man, because I was not in the mood to beat his ass. "You cost me money."

"Trust me, you didn't lose any," I scoffed. "The place was out of control. One night a fight brought out. I saved you hundreds in repair costs, and broken glasses. Another night, an asshole brought a knife into the place, and the police had to be called. Funny, though, how we called you, but you never came by," I said, giving him a look. "Don't really give a fuck what happens here, do you?"

"I care about how much money this places loses every night."

I shook my head and went back to counting bottles. "Well, don't worry about it, Paul, I'm taking good care of your daddy's bar."

"It's not his bar, anymore. It's mine," he gritted out. "I should just shut the place down, save myself the stress."

Before I could respond, the door to the back opened and I looked over my shoulder just as Bella came rushing in. She had her arms wrapped around herself and when her eyes met mine, the pain and grief filling them nearly had me on my knees.

"Who the fuck are you?" Paul snapped, causing her to freeze in the doorway.

"Shut the fuck up," I snarled in his direction as I tossed the clipboard onto the counter and walked over to her, sliding my hands up her arms and cupping her face. Her eyes were filled with tears, her lips trembling, and I could feel her shaking. "Baby, are you okay?"

She shook her head, her eyes darting over to Paul. "I shouldn't have come."

"Of course you should have," I said, pulling her into my arms. "He was leaving."

"I was, huh?" Paul scoffed, and I glared at him. "Fine, whatever. Don't think we're not going to discuss this further, Masen. My sap of a father may have liked you, but I think you're nothing more than yesterday's trash."

I struggled not to let his words affect me. It wasn't the first time I'd been told I was worthless, and I doubt it would be the last. Paul smirked as he walked past me and Bella, letting his eyes drag down the length of her body. My hand clenched into a fist, but before I could hit him, he was gone. Asshole was really pushing his luck. Once I heard the backdoor close, I walked Bella over to the bar, and lifted her up so that she was sitting on top.

"I'm sorry if I got you in trouble with your boss," she whispered.

"You didn't," I told her, grabbing a shot glass and a bottle of vodka. Holding them up, I asked, "Need one?"

She nodded her head softy. Pouring her a shot first, I handed it to her before pouring one for myself. I'd never been a fan of vodka, but I knew it was her drink of choice. Bella swallowed hers down before placing her glass on the bar.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"You're welcome," I said. "Want another?"

"Yes, but I shouldn't," she groused. "I told you, I don't normally drink outside of my apartment. Safer not to let my defenses down."

I nodded and placed the bottle of vodka back under the back. Picking up the clipboard, I returned my attention to the inventory. "I take it your meeting with Sam didn't go well."

"It . . ." She paused and shook her head again. "Actually, I don't know how it went. He, um, he runs a small business and is looking for someone to manage his office. He offered me the job."

I cocked an eyebrow. "What kind of business?"

"A security firm. Basically, he gets hired to test the security level and advise them on what type of adjustments need to be made. His wife is looking to quit now that their girls are both in school, so they thought I might be interested."

"And are you?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, but I don't know anything about running an office, Edward." She paused. "I never graduated high school."

"Me either," I admitted, leaning against the bar. "I left Chicago during my junior year, not that my grades were good enough to graduate, anyway."

"He . . ." Bella blew out a heavy breath. "Sam knows, Edward." And when I looked over at her, she added, "About me and the old man. He knows everything. He . . . he said what Marcus did, that I was kidnapped. How'd this happen? I don't understand how this happened!"

"I don't either," I said, moving so that I was standing between her legs. I placed my hands on her hips. "Did you call Marcus? About the DNA test, I mean."

She shook her head.

"Why not?"

Bella sighed. "Because I'm scared. Because I've spent fifteen years thinking they spent me away, and now everyone's saying how I was taken. I just . . . I don't know how to process that."

"I'm sorry if I've pushed you to hard," I muttered, shifting my attention away from hers.

"Oh, please, don't think that!" she exclaimed, placing her hand on my face and gently turning my attention back to her. "You haven't. I'm just scared. Everything's different and overwhelming, and I don't know how to handle it. I don't like change. It scares the shit out of me."

"Me too," I admitted. "I think that's why you scare me."

Bella frowned. "I scare you?"

I nodded. "You make me feel again, and I've worked really hard at not feeling. But it's like the moment I saw you in the diner, the second you looked at me, my world shifted and . . . I needed you."

"I need you, too," she whispered, leaning forward and placing her forehead against mine. "You're everything to me, Edward."

"As you are for me." I wrapped my arms around her as I pressed my lips against hers. Bella moaned, the sounds going straight to my cock. She drove me wild with want and need. Her fingers found their way into my hair, this time causing me to moan as her fingertips massaged my scalp.

"Um, excuse me." Startled, I pulled my lips away from Bella's and looked toward the door leading into the back, where Gus, the delivery man, stood with a smirk on his lips and a dolly full of boxes next to him. "Sorry to interrupt, Edward."

"It's fine," I muttered, pushing myself away from Bella, who was blushing brighter than a tomato. "You got a full load for me today?"

"Yep, just need you to sign on the dotted line and we'll get it unloaded for you," he replied, handing me the clipboard.

Once I scanned the order to make sure they had everything I'd ordered listed, I signed my name and followed him to the backdoor, watching as he and his partner unloaded more than three dozen boxes of booze. After they left, I sorted which boxes needed to stay out and which ones needed to go into storage. When I carried the first box of tequila into the front of the bar, I found Bella standing on the far end of the bar, in front of an old chalk board. Paul Sr. used it to advertise specials, but when he passed away, his son never bothered to utilize it.

I set the box on top of the bar and walked over to her, standing behind her as she used a tiny piece of chalk to draw. It was incredible. She'd drawn the bar, full of people laughing together. The feeling of happiness and cheer rolled off it, though that feeling certainly had never filled this dump.

"That's amazing," I murmured.

Bella looked over her shoulder at me, a smile tugging on her lips. "Sorry, I couldn't stop myself."

"Don't be sorry," I laughed. "It's great. We should move it up behind the bar, though."

"Why?" she asked, her brow crinkling.

"Because nobody's gonna see it here, and most likely some drunk will brush up across it and fuck it up," I explained, pulling it off the wall and carrying it to the bar. I placed it behind the beer glasses, on a small ledge where I knew everyone would see it. "There. That's perfect."

"It's not really worth the trouble," she scoffed.

"Bullshit," I laughed, cupping her face and placing a kiss on her lips. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful."

She smiled. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"I do," I admitted.

"You're too sweet to be with someone like me, Edward," she whispered.

"Trust me, I'm not that sweet," I quipped, releasing her and heading back into the back.

While I worked on getting the booze put up, Bella sat at the bar, doodling on napkins and watching me with wide, fearful eyes. I wanted to reassure her that everything would be okay, that I'd take care of her, but I couldn't. I could barely take care of myself, much less her, but I'd try. I'd spend the rest of my life trying to be the man she deserved.

Just before five, the back door opened again and Rose, Alice, and Emmett came walking in with Carlisle and Esme right behind them. Carlisle and Rose settled next to Bella, who moved to the far end of the bar where the three of them had made it a habit to sit, while Emmett, Alice, and Esme worked on getting the rest of the bar ready for us to open. Alice had just brought a half dozen ashtrays from the back when she noticed the chalkboard drawing that Bella did.

"Eddie, what the fuck is this?" she asked, tilting her head toward it. From the corner of my eye, I saw Bella tense up.

"It's called a drawing, Ally-Cat," I teased, placing my hand on her shoulder. "See, when an artist gets inspired, they like to create these images."

"Oh, my God, you are funny," she replied, dryly. "Why is it here?"

"Because it looks good there," I said. "Bella drew it."

Alice cocked an eyebrow in Bella's direction. "For real?"

Bella nodded. "I told him it was crap."

"No, it's not," she told her. "It's actually really good. Kind of reminds me of . . ." Alice shook her head, clamping her lips together. A darkness filled her eyes, one that I hadn't seen in a while.

"You okay, Ally-Cat?" Emmett asked from next to the door.

"I'm fine," she replied, looking from him to Bella. "You're an artist?"

"I dabble," she murmured. "Most of what I draw is shit, though."

"It's good, Bella," Alice told her. "Really good."

"Um, thanks," she murmured.

Alice shifted her eyes to me before she turned and headed back onto the floor. I saw Emmett watching her, the same worry in his eyes that were in mine. Alice wasn't the kind of person to give out compliments: fake or real. She was loud and crass, but she was also guarded and protected herself from getting close to anyone. Me and Emmett were the closet things she had to friends, and she hadn't let us into her life at all.

After another half hour, the bar was finally ready to open. I got Carlisle a beer and Rose and Bella each a bottle of water before giving Emmett the signal to open the doors. A flood of people came trickling in through the doors, finding their way to the bar and demanding drinks. Ben hadn't shown up yet, something that had me worried. It wasn't like him to miss a shift, and after the way he'd had to leave early the night before, I worried.

We'd been open for almost three hours when the door to the bar opened again and I saw the blond guy who worked at the diner with Bella slip inside. His hair was hanging in his face, but I saw his eyes darting around the room, like he wasn't sure he should be there. He spotted Bella and Rose at the bar and had taken two steps in their direction when suddenly Alice screamed. I snapped my attention over to her, finding her standing in the doorway to the VIP room, her eyes locked on the blond guy, who had turned and was staring at her.

"Jasper?" Alice asked, the silence filling the bar made it easy for her to be heard.

The blond guy opened his mouth several times before he stammered, "A — A — Alice?"

**Thank you for all the reviews. So, it appears that Jasper and Alice already know each other, doesn't it?**


	22. Chapter 22

BPOV

The entire bar was silent as Alice and Jasper stood on opposite sides of the room, their eyes locked on each other. Alice brought her hand up to her mouth and looked away, almost like looking at Jasper physically harmed her.

"Ally-Cat, you okay?" Emmett asked, pushing his way through the crowd and wrapping his arm around her.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jasper's jaw tightened and his hand curl into a fist. Sliding off my stool, I walked over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. He shifted his eyes to mine.

"You okay?" I asked.

He nodded, then turned to Alice. "I thought you were in Mississippi."

"I was," she relied. "Didn't work out, though. Turned out to be worse than Texas."

Jasper nodded.

"Surprised to see you here, though," she continued. "Thought you were a Texas boy through and through."

"Yeah, well, Texas didn't work out, either," Jasper grumbled, shifting uneasily.

Edward cleared his throat, pulling everyone's attention to him. "Not to be a dick, but Paul's already riding my ass about this shithole losing money. Need y'all to get back to work."

"Sure, E," Alice said, taking a deep breath and walking over to the bar. Placing her tray on top, she said, "I need another round of shots for the VIPS. Make it doubles, and I'll cover them."

Edward nodded as he pulled a dozen shot glasses from under the bar and filled them to the brim with tequila. She picked up the tray and looked over at Jasper before turning and walking back toward the room.

"Al!" Jasper called out, causing her to stop in the doorway. "We need to talk."

Alice looked over her shoulder at him. "It's too late, J. You forgot about me once. Do me a favor and forget me again."

Turning back to the room, she walked away from him.

"Al!" Jasper exclaimed, but she ignored him. Looking over at me first, he turned and walked out of the bar. I shifted my eyes to Edward before I followed Jasper, needing to make sure that he was okay. When I walked outside, I found him leaning against the building with his hands on his knees. "Go away, Bella."

"No," I said, leaning against the building next to him.

Jasper's hands clenched around the knees of his pants as he shifted his eyes up to mine. "Get the fuck away from me, you stupid little bitch!"

"No," I replied again, trying to keep the hurt from being called a bitch. It wasn't the first time, and I doubted it would be the last. "You need a friend."

"I don't need anything. Especially from a bitch like you," he snarled, the hatefulness in his tone shocking me. "You cost me a perfectly good job."

"Yeah, because the diner is such a goldmine," I scoffed. "You were bound to make a real name for yourself there."

"Maybe not, but it beats the hell out of . . ." he trailed off and pushed away from the wall. Turning, he started walking away from me, but stopped when I started to follow him. "Leave me alone."

"No," I said. "You need a friend, and goddamn it, so do I. You may not like me, but I'm not going to bail on you, Jasper."

He closed his eyes before he turned toward the wall and slammed his fist against the red, brick. "Son of a bitch!"

"Jasper!" I screamed, grabbing his arm and pulling his fist toward me. His knuckles were bleeding, and I was pretty sure he'd broken at least one of them, it not more. "That was stupid."

"Yeah, well, I'm a fucking idiot," he grumbled.

"No shit," I scoffed, keeping his hand in mine while pulling out my cell phone, and one-handedly sending Carlisle a text to come outside. "My friend is a doctor. I think you broke your hand, so don't be a dick when he comes out."

Jasper snorted, but didn't say anything.

A moment later, Carlisle came walking outside, he looked over at us and sighed. "What happened?"

"He had a disagreement with the wall," I explained, letting Carlisle slip Jasper's hand out from mine. "The wall won."

"Clearly," he countered, examine the hand as well as he could considering it was dark and the only light came from the streetlamp on the corner and the neon sign above the bar. "Looks like at least two broken knuckles, maybe a third. We need some x-rays, though, to be sure."

"I'm fine," Jasper grumbled, trying to pull his hand out of Carlisle's grip.

"No, you're really not," Carlisle stated. He looked over at me. "We can take him to the clinic, get a picture, and then cast it."

I nodded, and looked over at Jasper. "Want me to go get Alice?"

His eyes bore into mine for a moment before he looked away. "No."

"Okay," I said.

I pulled my phone out and texting Edward, letting him know that we were taking Jasper to the clinic and for him and Esme to meet me and Carlisle back at my apartment after work. We'd managed to walk a block when I got a responding text, letting me know they'd be there. I didn't want to leave Edward, but Jasper needed someone right now, and I would be that person.

Ten minutes later, Jasper and I were sitting inside one of the examination rooms at the clinic, waiting for Carlisle to come back with the results of his x-rays. Well, I was sitting. Jasper was pacing back and forth, his injured hand cradled up against his chest while his other hand was drumming against the side of his leg. He was muttering under his breath, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

"I broke a bone once," I said, causing him to look over at me. "My leg. I was ten."

Jasper nodded. "Two ribs when I was six, my arm when I was eight, my leg when I was twelve, and my collarbone when I was sixteen."

"Not because you're clumsy, right?" I asked.

He scoffed. "No. I'm not clumsy. In the way and a burden, but not clumsy."

"I was lazy," I told him.

"I looked for her," Jasper said, and when I lifted an eyebrow, he sighed. "Alice. I looked for her, but I couldn't find her."

"Seems to be a problem a lot of people have," I snipped, causing him to give me a questioning look. "Long story."

"Yeah, mine, too," he quipped, finally sitting on the edge of the examination table. A moment later, the door to the room opened and Carlisle walked in, holding a stack of films in his hand. He slide them onto the glass and turned on the light, showing us the breaks in his hand.

"Three clear breaks," he said. "Luckily, I think they'll heal without needing surgery," he added, looking over his shoulder at Jasper. "Like the other breaks."

Jasper didn't reply.

"I can cast your hand. Should take a few weeks, but might be more," Carlisle stated.

"I don't need a cast," Jasper grumbled.

"Yeah, you really do," Carlisle scoffed.

"No, I don't." Jasper paused. "I can't afford the x-rays and a cast, okay?"

"This is a free clinic, Jasper," Carlisle said. "You don't have to pay for shit here. Just let me cast your hand, and then we can get the fuck out of here. I need a few shots of tequila."

"Fine, whatever," Jasper said, a hint of resignation in his voice.

Half an hour later, Carlisle had placed a cast on Jasper's hand but instead of the three of us sitting in my living room with a bottle of tequila, Jasper had refused to come back to my place, saying something about needing to get his head on straight. A part of my considered trying to force him somehow, but I had a feeling that he'd had enough of that in his life, much like I had. So, instead, only Carlisle and I were sitting around my living room, him with a bottle of tequila and me with my vodka.

Just after two in the morning, someone knocked on my apartment door. I stumbled off the couch and walked over to it, yanking it open. Edward and Esme stood there, both of them looking tired. "Come on in," I said, stepping back and allowing them in.

Edward waited for Esme to walk inside before he placed his hands on my hips, tugging my body up against his. "I missed you."

"It's only been a few hours," I murmured, placing my hands on his chest. "I'm sorry I just left. He . . . well, he needed a friend, so . . ."

"It's okay," he whispered. "I get it. The bar got kind of crazy, anyway. Probably better that you weren't there."

"What happened?" I asked, frowning.

"Too many drunks, not enough room," he quipped. "Alice wasn't on her game, and a couple of the guys from the VIP room grabbed her ass. She . . . Well, normally she can take care of herself, but Emmett and I had to have a little chat with them."

"Oh." I looked up at him. "Is she okay?"

"No," he admitted. "Emmett took her home with him and Rose."

I nodded and slid my hand into his, I led him into my apartment. Carlisle and Esme were sitting on the floor with the tequila sitting between them. For a moment, I considered grabbing some glasses but decided against it. It was late, and I was tired. Today hadn't gone like I'd planned. Though, that seemed to be true for every day, anymore.

"Are you staying here or going down to your place?" I asked, causing Carlisle and Esme to look up at me.

"My place," he replied before standing up and pulling Esme to her feet. "Taking the tequila with me, too."

I laughed. "We've got vodka. We don't need your stinking tequila."

"Whatever," he snickered, sliding his hand into Esme's and leading her out of my apartment. Locking the door behind them, I turned back to Edward who had kicked off his shoes and was standing in front of my painting.

"You seem to like that one," I said, causing him to look back over at me with a smile on his lips.

"I do," he admitted, turning to face me. "Are you going to take the job?"

I sighed. "Probably. I need a job. My landlord is kind of funny about me paying my rent."

Edward laughed. "Yeah, mine, too."

"Everything just feels so . . . out of control," I groused, walking over to him and grabbing the bottle of vodka. "Want one?"

"No, thanks," he said.

I nodded and took a hearty swig before walking into the kitchen and placing it in the freezer. I didn't realize that Edward had followed me until he placed his hands on my hips, sliding them around and wrapping them around my torso. I sighed, relaxing against him.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, his lips grazing the cusp of my ear.

I nodded, releasing a deep breath. "I like when you hold me, Edward."

"You do?" he asked, and I felt his lips curve into a smile.

"Yeah," I breathed. "It makes me feel wanted."

"You are wanted," he murmured, spinning me so that I was facing him. He crushed his lips against mine before I could say anything. His tongue pushed into my mouth, and I moaned, wrapping my arms around his neck, threading my fingers in his hair. Edward pushed me back against the fridge, his hands sliding to my hips. He lifted me off the floor and my legs automatically wrapped around his waist, the sensation of him pressed against me had me gasping for air as I tore my mouth from his. "You're so fucking amazing," he groaned, his fingers kneading my hips. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," I moaned, knowing that I was. Edward had come barreling into my life and now, I was his, only his.

Tightening his hold on me, Edward pulled me away from the fridge and carried me into my bedroom, laying me on the bed and moving so that he was hovering over me. His eyes bore into mine, his chest heaved, and I knew he felt just as scared as I did about our relationship. We'd both been through so much hell, so much heartache, but we'd found each other.

"I feel so fucking lost when you're not with me," he whispered. There was a sense of shame in his words, like he was embarrassed to need me. Maybe he was, maybe he'd put such a barrier around his heart that he was afraid to admit how he felt. Just like me.

"Me too," I murmured, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. "Edward love me. Please, love me back."

"I do," he admitted. "I've loved you from the moment I saw you."

Leaning up, I pressed my lips against his. I slid my hands beneath his shirt, pushing it up as my hands roamed over his body. Edward grabbed the back of his T-shirt and pulled it off. He tossed it onto the floor before he placed his hands at the hem of my shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. Taking a deep breath, I let him slip it off, his eyes shifting down to the cream-colored bra that contained my breasts. He looked up at me as his fingers toyed with the front clasp. With a soft click, he undid it, releasing me. The urge to cover myself was strong, but I didn't. I shrugged off my bra and tossed it onto the floor before bringing my hand to the top of his pants.

Edward inhaled a sharp breath as I popped the button and lowered the zipper. Though I could tell he was nervous, he leaned up on his knees and shimmied them down his legs, before placing his hands on the bed on either side of me and kicking them off, leaving him in just his boxer-briefs.

As his hands reached for the front of my pants, I stopped him. Before he could say anything, I stripped them off and tossed them onto the floor, leaving me in just my panties. Edward's eyes traveled down the length of my body, his hands coming to rest on my hip.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, shifting his attention up to mine. "Can . . . can I touch you?"

I inhaled a sharp breath. "I . . . I'm not ready for that."

"Okay," he said, quickly. "Can I hold you?"

When I nodded, Edward smiled and shifted so that he was laying on the bed next to me. Reaching down, he pulled the blanket up, covering both of us before shifting his body so that he was wrapped around me. His hand came to rest just below my breasts, his lips pressing against my bare shoulder.

"Promise I can keep you?" he whispered.

I smiled. "Forever."

**Thank you for all the reviews. You didn't think I'd let all the secrets out that easy, did you? **


	23. Chapter 23

EPOV

Waking up with Bella in my arms was the best feeling. Waking up with a nearly naked Bella in my arms was beyond my expectations. I'd never desired the touch of another person the way I did with her. I needed her, but I wouldn't push for more. She wasn't ready, and to be honest, I wasn't sure I was, either. Our relationship was too new, too scary for both of us to take a chance only to be burned. I knew without a doubt that I was in love with Bella, that she was my future, and I hoped like hell that she felt the same way. If she didn't, I wasn't sure what I would do. Could I live in a world without her? Had I ever really lived before her?

"No," Bella mumbled, her face scrunching up like she was in pain. "I don't want to go . . . I want my mommy! I want my daddy! . . . NO, NO, NO!"

"Bella," I whispered, sliding my arm across her waist, letting my fingers curve around her hip. Her eyes snapped open and she looked at me with fear. "It's okay. It's just me."

"Sorry," she whispered, her eyes searching the room for signs that someone else was here. "What time is it?"

"Um," I looked over at the clock, "almost nine."

Bella nodded and sat up, pulling her sheet up so that it covered her body. She brought her hand up to her head, rubbing at her temples.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I have a headache," she whispered. "Will you grab me a bottle of water from the fridge? Please. I need to take something before it gets worse."

"Yeah, sure." Climbing out of her bed, I walked into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water. When I got back into her room, I saw that she'd slipped my shirt on. Honestly, the sight of her in my shirt nearly sent me to my knees. She was so beautiful, so innocent, yet she'd been through hell, seen and experienced more than anyone should have to. I don't know if our similar pasts that drew us together, or what, but I couldn't handle a life without her, not again.

"Here," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed and opening the bottle for her. She smiled as she popped a handful of ibuprofens into her mouth and chased it down with some water. Placing the bottle on the table, she brought her knees up in front of her, wrapping her arms around them. "Anything else I can do?"

"No," she said, quietly. "It's just from all the stress. I don't handle change well."

"Me either," I admitted, shifting so that I was laying on my side, facing her. "Are you going to call Marcus today?"

Bella sighed.

"I don't mean to keep harping on you about it," I told her. "I just think you need know for sure."

"You're right," she admitted. "But I don't know if I can pick up the phone and call him. He was so . . . hateful. And I get it, I do. But my brother, the one I remember following me everywhere, begging me to let him use my paints, wasn't so mean. Maybe . . . maybe it would be better to just not know. It's been fifteen years, after all."

"Maybe," I agreed. "Or maybe not."

Bella sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and nodded.

"Are you going to take the job?" I asked.

Once again, she sighed. "I kind of have to, don't I? I mean, I need a job. I only have a little bit of cash left from my last check, and I need food."

"You don't need to take that job, though. You can find another one. There are tons of diners and restaurants. Or you could come work at the bar. I'm sure I could get you a job there," I suggested.

Bella snorted. "I can't work in that bar, Edward. As much as I love you, I can't do that. It's too much."

I smiled. "You love me?"

Her mouth flopped open. "I do."

"I love you, too, you know. And I get it about the bar. Hell, sometimes, I hate working there."

"No, you don't," she said. "Hate it there, I mean. I watch you, the way you interact with people. You like it. It makes you feel normal, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes," I admitted. "With the way my parents were, I just learned not to let people close. The kids in my neighborhood knew better, knew my mom and dad were assholes. Easiest way to avoid getting hurt was not to put myself out there."

"But it's no way to live, right?" she asked. "Always being afraid."

"No, it's not."

Bella brought her hand up, dragging it over her face and through her hair. "What time do you go in tonight?"

"I need to be there by four. Why?"

Her eyes shifted to mine. "Will you go to the hospital with me? I need to see the old man before I can agree to the test."

"Of course I will," I said, sliding my hand over her knee, grabbing her hand. "I'd go anywhere for you, Bella."

—SMTS—

Two hours later, Bella and I once again found ourselves standing in front of the hospital. I waited at her place while she showered and dressed, and then we went to my apartment so I could do the same. And now, we were standing there, while she tried to get the strength and courage to once again go inside and face the man who claimed to be her father.

Taking a deep breath, Bella slipped her hand into mine and the two of us headed inside, passing the information desk, and walking over to the elevator. The trip up to the fifth floor felt like it took forever, and I could feel Bella begin to tremble as her nerves got the better of her. I released her hand, causing her to look at me with panic. I slipped my arm around her waist, holding her against my body, hoping that the strength I was trying to show was coming off. To be honest, I was scared shitless, too.

The doors opened and the two of us stepped out, and walked down the hallway to the old man's room. His room was open and Renee and Marcus were standing next to the bed talking to the same doctor who had lead Bella through the emergency room just a handful of days ago. Renee brought her hand up to her mouth and looked over to Bella, her eyes flying open.

"Isabella," she whispered.

"Is this a bad time?" Bella asked, her fingers gripping the side of my shirt. "I—I can come back later, or not. It's whatever."

"No!" Renee exploded, causing Bella to flinch backward. She sighed. "I mean, you're fine. It's fine. Come on in."

Bella looked from her to Dr. Gerandy, who looked confused, to Marcus, whose expression was the hardest to read. He seemed conflicted, like a part of him wanted nothing more than for Bella to come into the room, while at the same time, he wanted her to disappear.

"I'll, um, check back on Mr. Swan later," Dr. Gerandy said, titling his head toward the old man, who was laying in his bed asleep. The doctor turned and walked past me and Bella, who shifted her body even closer to me.

"Please, come in," Renee said, waving her hand toward the room.

Bella nodded and took a small step inside, but stayed next to the door. "Is the old man okay?"

Renee smiled and looked over at him. "He's getting stronger every day. The doctor thinks he might be able to move to a rehab facility next week."

"Oh, that's . . ." Bella trailed off. "Good, I guess."

"Are you going to do the test?" Marcus asked, causing Bella to look over at him. "Is that why you're here?"

"I — I don't know," she admitted.

He closed his eyes, his aggravation showing.

"You don't understand what I've been through," Bella said, causing him to open his eyes and look at her. "You expect me to take this chance, to risk my entire life changing, yet you can't even consider the idea that I'm telling the truth."

"Same could be said for you," Marcus argued. "Do you know how many girls have come to us over the last fifteen years and claimed to be my sister?"

Bella replied with a shake of her head.

"Forty-three," he relied. "And every one of them knew where my sister was born, knew that my sister was an artist. And every time I stood by and watched as my mother and father died a little more."

"Marcus," Renee grumbled.

"Sorry, Mom, but it's true," he griped. "The last time, I didn't think you'd ever come back to us. And look at Dad," he added, gesturing to where the old man slept. "Six years, Mom. For six years we've been trying to find him. And where was he? Here in Vegas? Here, watching her," he grumbled, looking at Bella. "Didn't know that, did you? That he'd been watching you, following you?"

Bella shook her head. "I only saw him at the diner. He came in every morning at ten, ordered the same thing. Two eggs, two slices of bacon, and an order of hash browns."

Renee smiled. "And coffee?"

"Black, but then he'd add sugar. Too much sugar."

Renee laughed. "Always does." She sighed and walked around the bed, grabbing the old man's hand. "He blamed himself when you were taken," she murmured before she looked over at Bella. "I can see you, the real you. Your eyes mostly, but it's also in the way you speak. You were a quiet child, shy. I always wondered if that's why you painted. Because it's the only way you could say what you wanted to."

"It was," Bella murmured. "Still is."

"I know we're asking a lot of you, but please do the DNA test," Marcus said, causing her to look at him. "I don't have my mother's faith. And I'm sorry if that comes off sounding cold and heartless, but I need to know with certainty that you're my sister, and something tells me that you need to know, as well."

Bella shifted her eyes to mine, silently asking what she should do. Giving her a subtle nod, I told her my feelings. She looked over at Marcus and then Renee, finally landing on the old man. "Okay."

"Really?" Renee asked, the hope in her voice evident.

"Yeah," she replied.

Marcus smiled and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "We've got a business associate who runs a small forensic lab. He said he could do the test for us. Let me call him and see when he can come by." Marcus paused and looked at Bella. "You can do it today, right?"

"Sure," she said, nibbling on her lip. "Can I go to the old man? Please?"

"Of course," Renee said before Marcus could argue, though I could tell he wasn't sure he should let Bella so close to his father.

While Marcus stepped out of the room to make his call, Bella pulled me behind her, clearly stating that she didn't want me to be too far from her. She stood on the opposite side of the bed from Renee. And reaching down, she picked up the old man's hand, curving her fingers around his and sighing.

"He barely said three words to me," she whispered.

"Garrett will be here in a few," Marcus said, walking back into the room. He stopped next to the door and looked at Bella. "You said he came into the diner. Which diner was that?"

Bella shifted her attention to him. "Call's Diner, two blocks south of the strip, over on tenth. I worked there until . . . well, until I brought him in here and the owner got upset that I closed the place and followed him."

"And how long had you worked there?" Marcus asked.

"A couple of years," she said, her irritation evident. "I got the job there right after I arrived here. Anything else you'd like to know about me?"

"A lot, actually," he replied, his lips curving up into a smile. "You said you'd only been in Vegas for a couple of years. Where'd you live before here?"

Bella's shoulder's tensed. "Arizona."

"Marcus, that's enough," Renee said, causing Bella to look over at the woman. "Sorry, he's always been nosy. Used to bother you all the time."

"I remember," Bella whispered.

"I'm not being nosy," Marcus grumbled, folding his arms in front of his chest and frowning. "I'm trying to get to know her. She's supposed to be my sister, after all."

"You're still a little shit, aren't you?" Bella asked, causing Renee to laugh. "You used to always come barging into my room, whining and crying because you were bored, because you wanted me to play with you. You never cared if I was busy, it was always about what you wanted."

"You remember that?" he asked, his eyes wide. Bella nodded. "Do . . . do you remember what you'd tell me before I went to bed?"

A small smile tugged at Bella's lips as she reached behind her, grabbing my arm and wrapping it around her waist. She was trembling, her eyes filled with tears as she whispered, "You'd always insist that I tucked you in. I'd pull the blanket up under your chin, and then . . ." Her eyes closed as she shook her head.

"And then?" Marcus pressed, the need in the two simple words coming out loud and clear. Renee was watching the two of them with wide eyes, full of hope and expectation.

"And then," Bella whimpered, "I'd kiss your forehead, then your left cheek, your chin, your right cheek, before kissing your nose, and whispering, 'Goodnight, goodnight, sweet dreams. Tomorrows a new day full of adventures.'" Bella brought my arm up, placing my palm over her heart. "Then I'd tell you that I loved you and promise to see you the next morning."

"Oh, my God," Marcus cried, one hand flying up over his mouth while the other was clenched around the doorframe.

Before anyone else could say anything, a tall, thin man with shaggy dirty blond hair came walking into the room, carrying a small black case. His dark gray eyes flittered from Marcus to Renee to the old man to me and Bella before turning back to Marcus.

"This her?" he asked.

Marcus dragged his hand over his face and through his hair before he nodded. "Yeah."

The man looked over at Bella. "Hi, I'm Garrett Mitchell. It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," Bella muttered.

"Okay, well, Isabella," he said, and the way her name came out of his mouth made it clear that he didn't believe her to be who she said she was, either.

"It's not Isabella," she said, causing everyone to look at her. "I mean it is, but I don't go by Isabella anymore. I haven't since . . . Well, it's just Bella now."

"Okay," Garrett said, giving Marcus a look. "I have a few forms I need you to fill out, and then I will take a swab from the inside of your cheek, Renee's cheek, and Charlie's cheek," he explained, digging a handful of forms out of his case and holding them out to her.

Bella shifted her eyes up to mine before taking them. She moved over to the small, rolling table and began to fill them out. A few minutes later, she turned and handed them back to Garrett. "There you go. I didn't put my number or home address."

"Why not?" Marcus asked, though I knew why. We'd learned real quick to stay off the radar, protect ourselves from those we didn't know. When you've been in hell like we had, you know just how easy it is for our demons to find us.

Bella shifted her eyes to him. "No reason."

"Okay," Garrett said once again sharing a look with Marcus. He pulled out three packs of long, cotton swabs, and turned to Renee. "You know the drill, Renee."

Sighing, she nodded and walked around the bed, opening her mouth. Garrett slipped on a pair of latex gloves and opened one of the packages and then pulling one of the swabs, he dragged it along the inside of her cheek. Holding it between his index and thumb, he pulled out another plastic bag from his case and dropped the swab inside before sealing it and writing today's date on the outside.

Leaning over Charlie, he did the same thing and then looked over at Bella. Though I could tell she was scared, she opened her mouth and let him swab the inside of her mouth, releasing a deep breath when he was done. Once he had all three inside the case, he filed Bella's paperwork inside and turned to Bella.

"We should have the results in a couple of days. I need a way of getting ahold of you."

Before Bella could say anything, I wrapped my arm around her waist and cleared my throat, causing Garrett to look over at me. "Two days, huh?"

He nodded.

"You know where Murphy's Law is?" I asked.

"That dive bar over on Grand? Sure, I know it."

"Good. She and I will be there the day after tomorrow at two o'clock."

Garrett pursed his lips together before looking over at Marcus, who gave him a subtle nod. "Okay, sounds good, I guess."

Picking up his case, he turned and walked over to Marcus, leaning down and whispering in his ear before he turned and walked out of the room.

"I should go," Bella muttered, her hand gripping my arm so tight, it almost hurt.

"Do you have to?" Renee asked. "We could go get lunch or coffee?"

"Um." Bella shook her head. "Sorry, I can't."

"Oh, okay." It wasn't hard to miss the look of longing on Renee's face, but Bella was barely hanging on. She'd already let her guard down.

Bella shifted her eyes back down to the old man before she started dragging me toward the door. Marcus opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, but he didn't. He clamped his lips together and stepped out of the way, letting us by.

The ride down to the lobby was tense and awkward, the emotions pouring off of Bella was stifling. Once we burst through the hospital doors, Bella released her hold on my hand, bringing hers to her chest, and she began to cry.

"I want to know them, to believe them when they tell me that they never gave me away." Bella turned and looked at me. "He always insisted that I put him to bed because I kept the bad dreams away. That's my brother, Edward, but I don't know him."

"I know," I said, frowning. "I wish I could make it better."

"You know it tolerable," she said, smiling through her tears. "I'm such a mess. Crying all the time."

"I don't mind." Bringing my hand up to her cheek, I brushed the tears off her cheek. "I need to get to the bar. You want to come?"

Blushing, Bella shook her head. "I need to call Sam about the job offer, and then I think I'm going to try to paint for a while. Will — will you come over after you close?"

"Will you cook for me?" I asked, smirking.

"Maybe," she laughed, grabbing the front of my shirt. "Be careful tonight, okay? Please?"

"I promise," I murmured, leaning down and kissing her. "I love you."

She smiled against my lips. "I love you, too."

**Thank you for all the reviews.**


	24. Chapter 24

BPOV

Everything in my life felt like it was spinning out of control. Everything, but Edward at least. He was the only part of my life that felt perfect. Well, not perfect. Neither of us would ever be perfect. We'd both been damaged — used and abused, tossed away like trash, left for dead. We weren't perfect, but we were together, and I'd never be able to let him go.

I waited until I was back inside my apartment before I called Sam. I wasn't confident that I should take the job, that I'd be able to do the job, but he was taking a chance on me, and I needed the money. Grabbing the vodka from the freezer, I poured myself a glass before I called him. His phone rang three times before it went to his voice mail. Though I didn't want to leave my number, I found myself rattling off the digits without a thought. Why did I trust Sam? For all I knew, he was just like every other creep in Vegas. Though, he wasn't. I'd watched him with Emily and the girls, watched the way he interacted with them. They were his life, his everything. So why was he determined to bring me into his business? And why did he feel the need to delve into my past?

Three minutes after I called Sam, my phone rang and his number flashed across the screen. Taking a gulp of my drink, I answered the call with a timid, "Hello."

"Hey, Bella, it's Sam," he said, quietly. "I got your message."

"Yeah, um, hey," I stammered.

"Can I assume that since you're calling that you're interested in the job?" he asked.

"I am," I admitted, sitting on the couch and pulling my knees up. The urge to protect myself, to guard my body, was intense, yet I didn't know why. "Though, I'm still not sure I can actually do the work."

"You can." The amount of confidence in the two words seeped through to my heart.

"How can you be so sure, Sam?" I heard myself asking. "You don't know me, not the real me. You know what some research told you, but you don't know the real me, the real person who lived in Hell."

"You're right, I don't," he replied with a sigh. "But I know a thing or two about pain, about being scared. Sometimes, all you need is someone to offer you a better road, Bella. That's all I'm doing: offering you a better road."

"Sam," I whispered.

"You can trust me, Bella."

"I don't know you," I responded. "For all I know you're no different than the Phil Dwyer's of the world." Through the phone, I heard Sam inhale a sharp breath, and I instantly regretted my words. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Depends what it is."

He laughed softly. "Will you meet me somewhere?"

"Where?" I asked, warily.

"Corner of Henderson and Fifteenth." He paused. "I give you my word that I will not hurt you, Bella. Please, just give me this chance."

I wasn't sure why, but I found myself agreeing. "Okay."

"Ten minutes?" he pressed.

"Make it fifteen," I whispered before ending the call.

Taking another sip of my drink first, I placed my glass on the coffee table, grabbed my keys, and walked out of my apartment, hoping and praying that I wasn't walking into a trap.

—SMTS—

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself standing on the corner of Henderson and Fifteenth. The area was just a few blocks from the strip, and based on the graffiti on the walls, the trash littering the sidewalk, and the used condoms thrown into the gutters, this area was a breeding ground of hookers, gang members, and the homeless, which was why I didn't understand why Sam wanted to meet me there.

"Hey, Bella." Turning to my right, I saw Sam walking up the block toward me. "Sorry, I'm late. Cassie insisted that I bring you this."

He held out a piece of paper and when I took it, I smiled. She'd drawn me a picture of me, her, and Bridgett in the diner. "Tell her I said thank you."

He nodded. "I will. The girls miss you. They keep asking when they're going to see you again, when we're going back to the diner. They just don't understand."

"You haven't been taking them there?" I asked.

Sam shook his head. "I don't support people like Mr. Call, Bella. The way he handles his business, his employees, it's disgraceful."

"It's business, Sam," I scoffed.

"No, it's not," he insisted, sighing. He brought a hand up, dragging it through his black hair and grabbing the back of his neck. "I was seventeen years old when I found my mother here." He shifted his eyes to mine. "Dead."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"She wasn't a great mom, Bella. She had a drug problem and whored herself out to pay for it. I was left at home to take care of my brothers. My dad left after my youngest brother was born, and never looked back. Mom didn't take his departure well and turned to crack to ease her pain. I got my brothers up every day, fed them, made sure they got to school, did their homework. I learned how to sign my mom's name to everything so the school had no idea that she was a crack whore. I had to be the parent to my brothers, you know?"

Sam squatted down, running his hand along the sidewalk. "I wasn't surprised when she didn't come home the night before. It wasn't the first time she'd stayed out all night with some asshole. The more she fucked them, the more they paid, the more she could feed her habit. Like I had done every day for ten years, Bella, I got my brothers up, fed them, and was walking them to the bus when . . ." He stood up, bringing his hand up over his mouth. "She was slumped up against the wall, a needle stuck in her arm and her skirt bunched at her waist. My brothers were babies, Bella, babies, and they had to stand here and see her like that. I tried to block their view, but they saw. The official cause of death was overdose, but they knew she'd had sex with multiple men that night.

"The state came, tried to take my brothers away from me, said that I was too young to take care of them, too young to raise them. Fuck, I'd been raising them since they were born. I fought hard to keep them and I was lucky that the judge hearing my case gave me the chance. There were times when I thought I wasn't doing enough, when I doubted whether I was enough for them, but I love my brothers, Bella, and they needed me. It wasn't easy, but I managed to graduate high school, got a scholarship to the community college, found a full time job. I met Emily my senior year of College, and we were married six months later. She stepped in, helped me raise the boys, and then she got pregnant and it got harder, but we did it." Sam smiled. "My youngest brother graduated from high school in June, top of his class. He got a full ride to the University of Nevada, and I'm so proud of the man he is. He works so hard inside and outside of school. My other brother, he's about to start his senior year at UN. He's a double major, criminal justice and social work. He's smart and determined to make something of his life. Emily and I are so proud of them for overcoming the odds and not letting drugs or gangs stir them in the wrong direction."

He paused, placing his hands on his hips. "Look, I know that I'm asking a lot of you. You're scared, and hell, I don't blame you one bit for being afraid. My life is a fucking cakewalk compared to what you've been through, but I'm offering you a chance at a real future. You're better than being some waitress as a shit-hole diner, working for old men who wank off to the fantasy of you sucking their cock, for fuck sake!"

I almost laughed, but the image of Mr. Call doing that had me nauseous. "And if I can't do the job? If after a week or a month, you realize that I'm too stupid to know how to use a computer? I didn't finish high school, Sam. All I did was paint."

"If you find yourself unable to handle the work, then we'll discuss the next step. As for you not finishing high school, it's never too late to go back and get your diploma," he said with a smirk.

"You're starting to sound like an afterschool special," I teased.

"It's the dad in me," he laughed, shrugging his shoulders. "Will you take the job?"

Bringing my hand up to my chest, I sighed. "Yeah."

Sam smiled and dug his wallet of out of his back pocket. Fishing out a small, rectangular card, he held it out to me. "Excellent. You can come by tomorrow afternoon and fill out the paperwork, and then you can start the day after tomorrow."

"Um, I have a meeting that afternoon," I stammered. "Can I start the day after that?"

"That's fine," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Emily will work with you for the first month or so, just to make sure you're up to speed on everything." He paused. "Bella, I'm glad you're coming to work for me. I think it could be good for both of us."

"I hope so," I murmured.

—SMTS—

After my meeting with Sam, I couldn't get back to my apartment fast enough. I'd taken a job that I had no idea how to do and it scared the shit out of me. Locking myself in my apartment, I changed into a ratty T-shirt and sat on top of my stool, staring at my painting, the one I'd been working on for weeks. Shaking my head, I placed it against the wall and pulled a fresh canvas out of my collection and placed it on my easel. Taking a deep breath, I reached for my paint brush and tried to forget that my life was in shambles.

It must have worked because I was so lost in my painting that I was startled when someone knocked on the door to my apartment. A glance at the clock told me it was almost three in the morning. I hadn't turned on any lights, only the dull glow from the candles that I'd lit when I came home illuminated the room.

Scrambling off my stool, I rushed over the door, fumbled with the locks before pulling it open. Edward stood there, one hand on either side of the doorframe. Tilting his head back, his eyes raked over my body and he smiled.

"I hope you don't open the door like that for just anyone. Especially at three in the morning," he teased.

I shook my head. "Normally, if someone came knocking on my door at this time, I'd ignore them, hide under my covers, and pray like hell that they went away."

"Do you want me to go away?" Edward asked.

"No," I admitted, reaching out and grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him into my apartment.

He looked down at my hand, which was covered in paint. "Show me."

"Okay," I whispered. Releasing my grip on his shirt, I led him over to my painting, waiting while he stared at it. "It's shit, I know."

"No, it's not," he said, shaking his head. "It's good. I mean, when I look at it, it's like . . . I feel . . . I don't know . . . trapped? Does that make sense?"

I nodded, shifting my attention to painting. A woman with dozens of green ivy grown around her, orange flames licked the bottom of the cage, while lightning struck all around her. Her eyes and mouth had been sewn shut, and she was naked, her body scarred with angry red welts. "This is how I feel most of the time. Like there's always something trying to pull me into Hell."

"Me, too," he murmured, shifting his eyes down to me. "Except when I'm with you. When I'm with you, the pressure here," he pointed to his chest, "doesn't exist. Does . . . does that make sense?"

Nodding furiously, I agreed.

Edward turned so that he was facing me, his hand coming up to caress my face. "How'd I ever make it through one day without you?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

"Me, either." Keeping his eyes locked on mine, Edward lowered his lips down onto mine. The feather-light kiss had my body tingling, my hands clenching, and my heart racing. I grabbed the front of his shirt, needing more. Needing him to hold me, to love me, to never let me go.

Edward growled, his tongue pushing between my lips, exploring my mouth. I pressed my body against his, needing more, needing to be closer to him. Edward placed his hands on my hips, lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around him, aware that he was carrying me into my bedroom.

Just like the night before, we stood in front of each other and removed each other's clothes until all that were separating us were our underwear. Climbing onto my bed, we sat so that we were facing each other, our eyes locked on the other, and a sense of expectation filling the room.

"The first time he touched me," I whispered, "I was so scared, because my mom and dad had already told me the difference between good touching and bad touching. I knew that he wasn't supposed to be touching me like that, making me touch him. But he said I owed him, that he'd relieved my parents of the burden of having to take care of a little bitch like me. So I let him do things to me." I reached out and grabbed Edward's hand, lifting it up and placing it over my breast. His eyes widened. "I need to know that when a man touches me, it won't hurt."

Inhaling a deep breath, Edward brought his other hand up, cupping my other breast. His fingers rubbed against my nipples, and it felt good, felt right, felt normal, and I knew it was because of him, because he was the one touching me.

"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, lifting his eyes to mine.

"You're not," I said, placing my hands over his.

Edward gently pushed me back so that I was laying on the bed. He moved so that he was hovering over me, one leg on each side and his hands next to my shoulders. He leaned down, wrapping his lips around my nipple.

"Oh, fuck," I gasped, unprepared for how it would feel for him to have his lips on my body.

"I'm sorry," he fretted, releasing me and pulling back, but I grabbed his face in my hands.

"No, don't stop!" I begged.

He smiled. "It . . . It felt good?"

I nodded. "Really good."

"Okay," he whispered before leaning back down. His lips once again wrapped around my nipple.

My eyes closed as he nipped and suckled on my breasts, alternating between the two, loving me in the only way I could let him. Edward leaned up and pressed his lips against mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth without question. Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him down on top of me, so that his weight was resting on me.

"Why do you love me, Edward?" I moaned as he peppered my neck and shoulder with kisses.

"Because you let me," he replied. "Because I need you."

"Don't leave me," I whimpered, overcome by the intensity of the moment.

Edward pushed himself up on his elbows, his eyes searching mine. "I'm never leaving you, Bella. Not ever."

The conviction on his words, the truth in his eyes, told me that he believed every word that he said. I may not have much, but I did have Edward.


	25. Chapter 25

EPOV

Bella continued to surprise me. I'd been so scared to touch her, to taste her skin on my tongue, but she gave me the strength to let go of my fear and let myself feel her. Our souls were so connected that hurting her would hurt me, something that scared the shit out of me. Bella had come into my life and turned everything around, made living easier. If she left me, I'd be lost. She was everything to me: the reason my heart beat, the joy that filled my soul, and the air that helped me breathe. She was everything good in the world, my hope for a better life than God had given me.

"Edward."

At the sound of her voice, my attention shifted from the bottles lined up under the bar. She was perched up on the far end of the bar, a sketch pad in front of her and a shot of vodka sitting in front of her. I knew she needed one, needed something to calm her nerves, but she hadn't drank it yet. Marcus, Renee, and Garrett were due in ten minutes, and I knew she was terrified of facing them. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that she was telling the truth, that she really was the long, lost Isabella Swan, daughter to Renee and Charlie Swan, but Marcus had been so cold, so harsh toward her. What would he do when the truth came out? Would he welcome her into his family or push her even further away?

"Yeah?" I responded.

"Turn to the left, just a hair," she said, smiling.

"Are you drawing me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

Her cheeks darkened as she smirked. "Maybe."

"You're not giving me a giant head and tiny body, are you?" I worried, thinking about the caricatures I'd seen when I was little. It was the only time my parents had ever done anything fun with me. A fair had come to the area and my school had given us all student passes. We rode every ride, threw darts at balloons, tried to win a fish, and stuffed our faces with fair food. Of course, just before we left, I watched as my father bought off a dealer standing next to the front gates.

Bella laughed, the sound searing straight through me. The sound of her laughter, knowing that I was the one making her happy, was amazing and perfect. "Of course not!"

"Hmm, I don't think I believe you," I groused, walking over to her and trying to look at her drawing, but she brought her sketch pad up to her chest. "Bella!"

"Not until I'm done with it," she teased. "Trust me; the wait will be worth it."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I believe you."

The sound of someone pushing against the door to the bar pulled our attention away from each other and Bella and I both turned toward the thick, heavy hardwood. Looking at Bella first, I climbed over the bar and walked over to the door, turned the lock, and pushed it open. Marcus, Renee, and Garrett were standing there, appearing awkward and uncomfortable. I almost laughed as I pushed open the door further, letting the three of them inside.

"Sorry. We don't open for another four hours. If I leave the doors unlocked, people tend to trickle in and demand drinks," I explained, locking the door behind them. "They don't always want to take no for an answer."

"Yeah, I suppose I can see why that'd be a problem," Marcus said, shifting his eyes around the bar until they landed on Bella, who picked up her shot of vodka and drained it before slamming the glass down onto the bar. "Hey."

"Hey," she echoed, closing her sketch pad and sliding off her stool.

"Can I get y'all something to drink? Beer, whiskey, scotch?" I asked, walking over to Bella and wrapping my arms around her waist. "Water?"

"No, thank you," Renee chirped. "This place is . . . nice."

"It's a dump, but most people who come in here aren't looking for anything more. All they want are a few drinks and a place to forget real life," I said, sitting on the stool and pulling Bella down onto my lap. Marcus narrowed his eyes at us, but I didn't care. She was terrified and needed reassurance that everything was going to be all right, even if it was bullshit. There wasn't any way to guarantee that everything would be okay. Life sucked, and shit happened.

"I guess I can understand that," Renee said, smiling as she walked over and sat on the stool two down from us. "There's been a time or two that I've wanted to do that, as well."

Garrett cleared his throat, pulling our attention to him. "Not to be an asshole, but I've got shit to do this afternoon, so can we get to the results of the test?"

"Of course," Renee murmured. Marcus nodded as he walked over and stood next to his mother, his hand coming down to rest on her shoulder. The room was tense, thick with unspoken anticipation and expectation that would change lives. And make no mistake: lives were about to change.

Garrett placed his bag on one of the tables close to the door and dug out a manila folder, slipping two pieces of paper out. He placed one on the bar in front of Bella, who tensed when he leaned toward her, and one on the bar in front of Renee. "With an accuracy of 99.993%, she is Isabella Marie Swan."

One of Renee's hands flew to her mouth and she scrambled to her feet, reaching for Bella with the other hand, but Bella was off my lap and several feet away, cowering against the wall before anyone could even blink. I saw the look of fear and shock on Renee and Marcus's faces, even the small amount of concern on Garrett's, before I pushed myself off the stool and walked over to Bella, kneeing next to her.

"It's okay, love," I whispered, slowly reaching out and placing my hand on her back. Her head turned and she looked at me, sorrow and heartache filling her eyes. "They aren't going to hurt you."

"How do you know?" she whispered, barely speaking loud enough for me to hear her.

I didn't know, but I knew that she needed to sit down and talk to them — really talk with them — so I heard myself saying, "They loved you once. They might still."

Her eyes flittered over my shoulder to where Renee, Marcus, and Garrett were no doubt watching us, watching her have a breakdown. "They don't know me, the person I am now at least."

"But we want to know you," Marcus said.

Bella pushed herself up the wall, and I kept my hand on the back, knowing she needed me to keep her centered, just as she did for me. "Yeah?"

"Of course we do," he replied. "There's not a day that's gone by that we didn't think about you, pray that you'd be found, wonder where you were."

Bella's eyes flittered to Garrett, and I knew she was uncomfortable discussing anything she'd been through with him there. "Thought you said you had a busy afternoon."

He shifted his eyes from Bella to me before he nodded and turned to Marcus, holding out his hand. "You know where I'm at, if you need me."

"Yeah, thanks, Garrett," Marcus said, gripping his hand tightly. "I'll be in touch."

Garrett shifted his eyes over to Bella once again before he turned and walked over to the door, unlocked it, and let himself out. Reluctantly, I left Bella standing there while I walked over and relocked the door.

"Well," Marcus said, clapping his hands together and causing Bella to flinch backward. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she murmured. "I'm just a little on edge right now."

"Isabella," Renee whispered and Bella turned to her. She reached out. "Can I hug you?"

"Um," she replied, her eyes flittering over to me for a brief second before she nodded. "I guess."

Slowly — almost to the point of being dramatic — Renee took the handful of steps to where Bella was standing, her arms wrapping around her. For a moment, Bella's arms simply hung loosely at her sides, but then she surprised me by hugging her mother back. The sound of their muffled sobbing echoed through the bar, and I found myself feeling out of place. I had never felt the love of a mother's embrace, only the hatred that came with ruining her life, with being the cause of all her failures. Turning away from them, I tried to stifle the envy I felt in that moment.

"I thought we were never going to see you again," Renee cried, and when I looked over, I saw that she had her hands on Bella's face, her thumbs wiping away the tears that fell down her face. "You're beautiful."

"Thanks," she whispered. "I thought you'd sent me away."

"We would have never sent you away," Renee said, a motherly tone lacing her words. "When we realized that you were missing, that you'd been taken, we were heartbroken."

"So heartbroken that you never found me," Bella groused, pulling herself out of her mother's hands. "So heartbroken that you left me in the hands of a monster."

"We didn't know where you were," Renee lamented. "The police, the FBI, everyone was searching for you, but it was like you'd just disappeared."

"Don't I wish," she muttered.

"What do you know about Phil Dwyer?" Marcus asked, causing everyone to look over at him.

"He's a monster. That's all I needed to know," Bella murmured, her arms wrapping around herself and her eyes flittering over to me, pleading with me to hold her. I walked over to her, my arms slipping around her. "He told me that you sent me to his art institute, that you didn't want the burden of raising an artistic child anymore. He said . . ." Bella shook her head. "He forced me to paint for him, so he could sell my work."

"We suspected that he had something to do with your kidnapping," Renee murmured with a shake of her head. "But the police cleared him, said he had an air-tight alibi." She shifted her gaze over to Bella. "Did he hurt you?"

Bella's eyes grew wide, and though she gave no indication of the abuse she suffered at the hands of the man that kidnapped her, Renee's hands flew to her chest. "Oh, my God." She reached for Bella, who pushed back into me. "If we'd known where you were . . ."

"You what? You would have saved me? You would have stopped him from putting his hands on me?" Bella asked, her tone laced with resentment.

"Yes," Renee insisted.

"You should have stopped him from getting to me at all," Bella snarled.

"Don't blame Mom for what happened to you," Marcus said, sliding his arm around Renee's shoulder. "It's not her fault any more than it's yours."

"Isn't it?" Bella asked. "_She_ was supposed to pick me up that day. _She_ promised that we'd go to the art store so I could buy some new paints. _She_ fucking promised me, Marcus!"

"And I would have if I hadn't gotten called into a meeting," Renee wept, shaking her head. "I told them I had to be out by three, but they wouldn't stop arguing. It was ten after before I could leave, and when I got to your school and you weren't there, I thought Dad had picked you up. When I got home and you weren't there, and he hadn't seen you, I just knew something horrible had happened. We called the police, but you were never seen again. Not until you walked into the hospital room."

"The old man saw me, he knew me," Bella murmured. "For two years, he'd been coming into the diner, being an asshole, trying me like shit. Two fucking years of putting up with his attitude! The sad part is, I looked forward to him coming in because while he may have been a cranky bastard, he actually saw me as a person and not just . . ."

"We haven't seen Dad in six years. He just left for a business trip and never came home," Marcus said. "It wasn't until you brought him into the hospital that we realized he was here in Vegas."

"And you live here?" Bella asked.

"No, I'm a student at UCLA," he replied. "Starting my junior year in the fall."

"You're only nineteen," Bella said. "How can you already be in your third year?"

"I graduated a year early," he explained.

Bella nodded, almost like she was unsure of what to say.

"What about you, Isabella?" Renee asked, drawing her attention away from her brother. "Did you go to college?"

Bella's shoulders tensed, and I placed my hands on either side. "No," she whispered. "He wasn't particularly concerned with my education after he took me. All he let me do was paint."

"Oh," she murmured.

Before she or Marcus could say anything else, the sound of the backdoor being opened and Alice, Emmett, and Rose coming in trickled out from the back. The four of us turned as the three of them walked into the front of the bar, freezing when they spotted us. Renee's eyes flittered to each of them, stopping on Alice and eyeing the tattoos on her leg, arms, and shoulder.

"Hey, guys," I said, clearing my throat.

"Hey," they mumbled together, their attention still on Renee and Marcus.

"Um, we should go," Marcus said, wrapping his hand around the top of Renee's arm.

She frowned as she looked from Alice to him and then to Bella. "Yes, I suppose we should." She paused. "Can we meet for lunch tomorrow? Please? I'd like to sit down and talk with you more."

"Um, I can't," Bella murmured. "I start a new job, so . . ."

"Of course," Renee replied, sadness filling her eyes. "Maybe we could do dinner or something instead?"

Bella stared at her for a long moment before nodding. "Yeah, maybe."

The smile that spread across Renee's face could only be referred to as pure happiness, and once again I found myself struggling with envy. My mother never looked at me like that, she was never anxious to see me, to have dinner with me. Hell, I doubt she even noticed I was gone, not until it came time to pay her next bill off. "So, listen, here is my number," Renee said, scribbling down her number on the back of a small, rectangular card. "Give me a call when you're ready. Okay?"

Bella nodded before taking the card from her, her eyes filling with tears.

Marcus cleared his throat, pulling her attention to him. "I want to apologize for . . . Well, how I've behaved over the last week. I just . . . I've missed you, and I didn't want to get my hopes up just to be disappointed again."

"Guess I can understand that," Bella murmured, biting her bottom lip.

"Yeah, so, um, look, here's my number, too." He quickly scribbled his number on the back of an old receipt, and handed it to her. "Call me sometimes. Or text me, or whatever. Just . . . something, okay?"

Though I could tell Bella was resistant to accept his number, seeing as he was such an asshole, she nodded and took the paper from him. "Yeah, sure."

Taking a deep breath, he gently tugged on Renee's arm and led her over to the front door. Emmett rushed over and unlocked the door, letting them out. Bella collapsed in my arms, her sobbing echoing throughout the silent room. Shifting my eyes to Emmett first and then to Rose and Alice, I saw the concern etched on each of their faces, but more than concern, I saw understanding. We'd all been through Hell, that much I was sure of.

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	26. Chapter 26

BPOV

Once the tears began to fall, I couldn't stop them. My body convulsed as sob after sob ran rampant through me, and yet, I couldn't stop them, couldn't be strong any longer. For fifteen years I'd lived under the impression that my parents hadn't wanted me anymore, that they'd sent me away to a monster who raped me and beat me, used me for a quick buck and an easy fuck. But now, all of the sudden, they were here with claims of innocence and longing to be involved in my life. How was I supposed to know if they're telling the truth? If I can trust them again? And why did the old man come into the diner every day for two years and not tell me who he was?

"Baby, are you okay?" Edward whispered, and I shook my head because I wasn't okay.

I was far from being okay. I had parents and a brother, people who suddenly wanted me, but I didn't know how to be that person again. I'd grown up, learned the hard way that life sucked and people only wanted me until I had nothing left to give them. Would Edward throw me away, too, when he got what he wanted from me?

"That will never happen," he whispered, and I realized that I'd muttered my musings out loud. Edward placed his hand under my chin, tilting my head backward. "I love you, Bella. I will never get enough of you, and I will never hurt you."

There was nothing but truth and honesty in his eyes, though I still found myself struggling to keep the tears from falling. "I believe you. I do, but it's hard for me to trust myself."

"I'll just have to prove it to you, then, won't I?" he murmured.

"You shouldn't have to, though," I grumbled.

"Shouldn't I? We've only known each other a couple of months, and half of that was spent with me being too much of a bitch to spend more than five minutes around you because I was scared," he rambled, his thumb stroking my cheek. "I will prove that I'm that man you deserve, Bella."

"You have just by being here," I whispered, leaning up and pressing my lips against his.

It wasn't until I heard Carlisle whistle followed by the sound of him laughing that the realization that Edward and I weren't alone hit me. My face warmed as I pulled myself away from Edward and glared at Carlisle, who waved me off as he walked around the bar and took the seat next to Rose.

"I guess I'd better get to work," Edward mumbled, clearly embarrassed, too.

Trying my hardest to ignore the smirk on Carlisle's face, I sat down next to him and picked up my sketch pad, hugging it against my chest.

"How'd the meeting go?" Carlisle asked, and I shifted my eyes to his. "That good, huh?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Depends on who you ask, I guess. The test came back proving that I'm their daughter, but I'm not really their daughter, not anymore. Does that make sense?"

Carlisle nodded. "You're not the little girl you used to be, and they're going to expect you to be her."

"Yeah," I murmured. "But she's dead."

As the night wore on, I found myself struggling more and more with the events of the afternoon. I knew who I was, who I used to be, but to have to prove myself to them, to have them sitting across from me as Garrett spouted out the results like he was giving up the winning lottery numbers was difficult. Not to mention that fact that I wasn't sure I liked Garrett, either. Had he just been cautious about believing me because of his friendship with Marcus and Renee? Had he sat through more than one of these tests, only to have to deliver the news that whoever claimed to be me, wasn't really? Had that turned him into a cynic, or was there more to his resentment than that?

About three hours after the bar opened, Emmett walked over to where Carlisle, Rose, and I were sitting, asking Edward for a bottle of water before wrapping his arm around Rose and looking over at me. "You okay, Ninja-girl?"

I shook my head because I was tired of pretending that I had my shit together. "Not even close to be okay."

"But she will be," Edward said, handing him the bottle of water and winking at me. "Because she's stronger than she thinks she is."

As Edward turned and went back to work, Emmett nodded and took a big drink before kissing the top of Rose's head. He took the two steps toward me, turning his head so that he was looking down at me. "I don't know what your story is, Ninja-girl, but I'm here if you need me. Anytime, anywhere, all right?"

"Why do you care?" I asked, causing his eyes to widen. "You don't know me. For all you know I could be a crazy ax-murder, luring Edward into my trap."

Emmett smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nah, you could never hurt him."

"What makes you think so?"

"Because behind the mask you put on, the one where you try to act like you're not scared, is a woman who desperately wants someone to save her. And Edward, well, he's your savior." Emmett leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of my head. "Just as you're saving him."

Stepping away from me, Emmett walked back of the door and I turned and looked at Rose. She smiled. "He means it, you know? Emmett is the kind of guy who . . ." Rose trailed off, almost like she realized that she was about to share too much. "Well, he's amazing, and he'll be there anytime you need him. Loyalty is one of his faults, or gifts. Depending on how you look at it."

"I can see that," I whispered, unsure of what else to say.

Just after last call, the door to the bar opened and I looked over my shoulder, surprised to see Jasper standing there. He'd been so angry when he smashed his hand against the wall outside of the bar, breaking three knuckles. Pissed at me for costing him his job at the dinner, yet here he was back at the bar with a cast on his hand and his eyes roaming around the room in search for his girl.

Alice came bustling out of the VIP room, shoving a fistful of cash into the back pocket of her tighter-than-sin jeans. She shifted her eyes up toward Edward, but froze when she saw Jasper standing there in the doorway of the bar. The last of the patrons waltzed out of the place, not realizing the heaviness of the moment, nor caring about anything other than their own problems.

Shaking her head, Alice looked over at Edward. "Sorry, E, but I can't."

Alice turned and headed toward door leading to the back, but stopped when Jasper called out, "Al, stop!"

Alice turned to face him. "What do you want, J? Hmm? What do you want from me?"

"I just . . ." He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. "I want to talk. It's been ten years, Al. Ten goddamn years!"

Alice nodded, her hand coming to rest on her stomach. "I live everyday with the reminder of how long it's been. I certainly don't need you to remind me."

"So do I," Jasper replied. "I looked for you, but by the time I got to Mississippi, you were gone and your momma hadn't heard from you in a year."

"Well, probably took that bitch six months just to realize that I wasn't there, anymore," she snarked. "Or one of her boys, at least. Nobody for them to fuck when she was too drunk to suck their cocks. Speaking of, how is your daddy?"

"Dead," Jasper muttered, and Alice's eyes widened.

"How?" she whispered. "When?"

Jasper shifted his eyes around the bar, and shook his head, clearly not comfortable discussing that part of his story with us sitting right there, yet nobody seemed to be able to move.

"Fine, J, whatever," Alice scoffed, turning and walking away from him.

"I killed him," he muttered, and she stopped, but didn't turn toward him. "It got worse after you left, after I tried to leave, and he made it clear that he wasn't going to stand by and watch me disgrace the family name."

Alice snorted, finally turning around to face him. "Like he was one to talk about disgrace anyone."

Jasper nodded.

"He hurt you pretty bad?"

Once again, Jasper nodded, and when he looked up at her, I saw the pain and fear in his eyes and I thought back to the day in the diner, when Red threw his food on the floor, the way he shielded my body with his, and I understood. Jasper hadn't been able to save Alice from whatever his father had done to her, or to him, which explained the scars on his back and neck. Like me and Edward, Esme and Carlisle, and I suspected Rose and Emmett, Alice and Jasper had been through hell, but had they survived? Had any of us?

"I stopped him before he could get rid of me for good, though," he mumbled. "Made sure he wouldn't be able to hurt _anyone_ ever again."

"I didn't want to leave you," Alice murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. "But after he . . . She made me leave, said it was for the best, that we could start new, but we couldn't. She was never going to stop whoring herself out, and I couldn't stay and be a victim."

"Like she knew what was best for you," Jasper groused. "She never cared about you, Al. Never."

"No, she didn't," Alice admitted. She sighed. "Look it's not your fault, okay? She refused to see what her lifestyle did to me, what they all did to me. And he wasn't any different. He was just one more asshole who crawled into my bed in the middle of the night. Only difference was that he had the unfortunate luck to knock me up."

Jasper flinched backward like she'd reached out and struck her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she whimpered. "Wasn't your fault then, not your fault now."

"Ally-Cat?" Emmett mumbled, breaking into their conversation. "You have a baby?"

She shook her head, her hand coming up to rest over her heart. "Not anymore. My daughter was born at twenty-two weeks. She was a fighter, though," Alice whimpered, unable to keep the tears from falling. "But she wasn't strong enough, and . . ."

"Ally-Cat," Emmett whispered, walking over to her and pulling her into his arms. Placing a kiss on top of her head, I saw the ease of their friendship. While they flirted relentless with each other, they were the best of friends, much like Carlisle and myself. "I'm sorry, honey."

"Me, too," she wept. "Take me home, Em. Please?"

Emmett nodded as he swept her off her feet, and looked at Jasper first and then Rose. 'Babe?"

Rose didn't utter a word as she followed them out of the bar, leaving only me, Edward, Carlisle, Esme, and Jasper standing there. Sharing a look with Edward first, I climbed off my barstool and walked over to Jasper, slowly placing my hand on his shoulder. He tensed at the contact, but didn't pull away.

"I wanted to marry her," he whispered. "I would have raised the baby as mine, saved her from the hell Al and I had lived through. I would have been a good dad."

"I'm sure you would have," I murmured. "Do you still love Alice?"

Jasper looked over at me. "I've loved her since I was fifteen. She's everything to me, Bella."

"Then don't give up on her," I said, shifting my attention to Edward. "She's worth it."

"And if she won't let me love her?"

Turning back to Jasper, I shook my head. "Then she doesn't, but what do you have to lose?"

"Nothing," he admitted. "Without her, I have nothing."

Without letting me respond, Jasper turned and walked out of the bar, letting the door close behind him with a deafening thud.

"Well, that was . . . intense," Carlisle stated, and I rolled my eyes and looked back at him. "What?"

"Thanks for stating the obvious, asshole," I quipped, walking over and sitting on the stool next to him. "We're just a bunch of fucked up drama queens in this place, aren't we? Crying and airing our business all over the place."

"You know, Bella," he started as a smile curved upward on his lips, "you're kind of a bitch."

I smirked. "I know, that's what you love the most about me."

"I do," he admitted, turning on his stool and looking over at Esme, who had returned to clearing off the tables. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft that I knew I was the only one who could hear him. "I'm in love with her."

"I kind of figured," I murmured, leaning my head on his shoulder. "Does she love you, too?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I'm too afraid to ask, too afraid to tell her how I feel."

"Why?" I asked, looking up at him.

He tore his attention away from her and looked down at me. "Because if she doesn't feel the same way, I don't know that I would survive. I've worked so hard to keep my life from falling apart, from leaving myself open to anyone who could hurt me, but I can't do that with her. I need her. I hold her in my arms at night, and it feels so natural and normal, but it's not, right? I mean, I've only known her a couple weeks."

I shrugged my shoulders. "That's true, I guess, but maybe this is how it's supposed to work. Look at me and Edward. What are the odds of us meeting, of falling in love, of everything leading to this moment?"

"I don't know," Carlisle murmured. "You gonna be okay? After finding your family and everything, I mean."

"Honestly, I have no idea," I admitted, shifting on my stool so that I was facing him. "I feel very . . . overwhelmed by everything. A new job, Edward, finding my family."

"It's okay, though. You know that, right?" he asked. "To be cautious with them. It has been fifteen years, Bella. I know they want to know you, but it's okay to be careful."

I nodded. "That's what scares me the most. If they knew, really knew, everything, would they want me?"

Carlisle shrugged his shoulders as he stood up, tossed some money on the bar for his beers. "If I had the answer that question, Bella, I wouldn't be a fucked up drama queen myself, would I?"

"Probably not," I admitted.

Carlisle leaned down and kissed the top of my head before walking over to the door to the back, where Esme was waiting for him. She smiled at me before they left, and I hoped more than anything that she'd make him happy, that she'd be the person that loved Carlisle in return. He was an amazing man, who deserved to be happy.

"You about ready?" Edward asked, and I looked over at him. He was standing at the far end of the bar, his hands on his hips and a smile on his lips.

"Yep," I replied, standing up and walking around the bar to him. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

"Me, too," he laughed. "Been a long day, and a dramatic evening."

Placing my hands on his chest, I shifted my eyes up to his. "Thank you."

"For?" he asked, his forehead furrowing.

"Just for being here when I need you. I could not have gotten through today without you by my side."

Edward smiled and brought his hands up to my face, brushing his fingers across my cheeks. "I needed to be here, too."

"You did?"

He nodded. "You're getting a chance with them again, Bella. A part of me needed to see that not all families are assholes. I know that things are still up in the air, and you're still not one-hundred percent comfortable around them, but you have a mom who wants to spend time with you and a dad who watched you for two years."

"And a brother who hates me," I groused.

"Marcus doesn't hate you. He's just scared, I think."

"Yeah, well, so am I," I grumbled. "I don't want to talk about them anymore. Can we go home?"

"Mine or yours?" he asked.

I bit my lip. "Either, but if we go to yours then I need to stop by mine and grab clothes. I start my new job tomorrow, not that I have anything decent to wear."

"We'll go to yours, then," he said. "And I'm sure that anything you wear will be fine. Maybe we can hit one of the thrift shops after you get off, see what we can find."

"Not until I get paid," I told him following him through the back of the bar.

"Understood." Edward handed me a helmet before climbing onto his bike and holding it steady for me.

As I wrapped my arms around him, I closed my eyes, thankful that he hadn't turned his back on me, that he loved me. Because I would need him forever.

**Thank you for all the reviews. Really struggled to get into this chapter, not sure I love all of it. What are your thoughts?**


	27. Chapter 27

EPOV

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," Bella muttered, waking me up. Groaning, I pushed myself up on my elbows and searched her bedroom, finding her standing in front of one of those cheap, full-length mirrors that cost five bucks at Wal-Mart. Catching my eye, she turned and faced me. "I look like shit, don't I?"

I smiled, because Bella couldn't look like shit if she tried. "No. You look beautiful."

And she did. She was wearing a simple black peasant skirt and a black, fitted T-shirt along with a pair of black flip-flops. She'd pulled her long hair up into a ponytail, though she didn't have any make-up on. She didn't need it, anyway.

Bella sighed and turned back to the mirror. "He's gonna take one look at me and tell me to get the fuck out."

"No, he won't," I said, sitting up with my knees bent in front of me.

"And if he does?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at me.

"Then you'll come tell me and I'll kick his ass."

Bella smiled. "Promise?"

I nodded.

She sighed once again and looked back at her reflection. "Not like I have another choice, anyway. My wardrobe consists of jeans, tees, sweats, and that's about it." With a shake of her head, she turned back to me. "I guess I'd better get going."

"Okay. I guess I should go back to my place. Get some shit done before I have to head to the bar," I told her, throwing the blanket off me and climbing out of bed. Walking over to Bella, I placed my hands on her cheeks. "Are you going to come by tonight?"

"Kind of depends on how today goes, I think. I'll call you, though. No matter what, and if I don't come by, you can always come here afterward."

I smiled. "Sounds like a deal."

Bella placed her hands on my bare chest, something I was still trying to get used to. It'd been incredibly difficult for me to strip off my clothes and let her see me in just my boxers-briefs, but then she upped the ante by allowing me to touch her breasts. Three nights in a row we'd found ourselves sitting on her bed with nothing but our underwear on. It wasn't just the fact that she let me see her breasts, or touch them, or taste them on my tongue, but the intimacy that came with knowing that she trusted me, she needed me, she wanted me. I fell more in love with her every day, and while the feelings inside of me were terrifying, I found myself thinking about our future. Maybe we'd get married, have babies, grow old together. Was it possible for us to have a normal life together?

Bella waited while I put my pants and shirt from the night before back on. As we were walking Carlisle's apartment, his door opened and we found ourselves face to face with Carlisle and Esme. Though the four of us gave each other a look that clearly questioned who was doing the walk of shame and just what we'd all been doing.

Carlisle cleared his throat, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck as he looked from me to Bella. "Starting your new job today?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You working?"

This time, he nodded. "Double shift."

"Be careful, okay?" Bella asked, leaning up on her toes and whispering something into his ear.

He smiled. "I will. Call me or something later?"

Bella nodded and looked over at Esme, giving her a nervous, timid smile. "Have a nice day."

"Yeah, you too," she gritted out, and it was clear she didn't like how close Bella and Carlisle were. I didn't either, but I also understood that Bella needed him. He'd been the only person in her life for too long, and I wasn't selfish enough to ask her to give him up.

Bella shifted her eyes over to me, her cheeks turning red as she leaned up on her toes and kissed me. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I whispered, entirely aware of the way Carlisle and Esme were staring at us with shock etched into their features.

Bella turned and nearly ran out of the building. I followed straddling my bike. A few minutes later, Esme walked out and looked over at me. "Get on," I told her, holding out my extra helmet.

"You're bossy," Esme muttered, but took the helmet from me. Perhaps she realized that I wasn't going to back down when it came to protecting her.

"Yep," I admitted.

Once she had her helmet on, she climbed onto my bike and wrapped her arms around my torso. I kick-started the bike and pulled away from the curb, heading toward Esme's apartment. When I pulled up in front, she climbed off and handed me the helmet, but looked surprised with I climbed off the bike, too.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"You don't seriously think I'm leaving you alone with that bastard still on the loose, do you?" I scoffed. "Especially when it's clear that he knows where you live."

Esme stared at me for a moment, almost like she couldn't understand what I was saying. "Why do you care if he hurts me?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because you don't know me!" she exclaimed. "For all you know, I asked for it."

I frowned. "Nobody asks to get raped and beaten, Esme. Nobody."

"I was a bitch. I was cocky and self-righteous. I never had to want for things, never had to struggle for anything."

"So because you grew up with luxuries, that means you deserve for some asshole to rape you? To beat you and stalk you over and over, slowly tearing you down until you're nothing?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I groused.

Esme shifted her eyes up to mine. "I looked down on people like you, Edward. I saw you as nothing more than white trash, who were too lazy to make their lives better."

"Maybe I am white trash," I admitted.

"But you're not," she insisted. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

I shook my head.

"Fine, but stay out of my way," she grumbled.

"I make no promises," I snickered.

—SMTS—

Later that afternoon, Esme and I were at the bar. We'd spent a couple hours at her place while she did some laundry, made a few phone calls, but otherwise ignored me entirely. Once she had changed for work, we headed to my apartment so I could do that same. Of course, my place looked like a dump compared to hers, but it was mine and I was proud of it. Now, she was standing in front of the jukebox while I stocked the bar. The night before hadn't been too busy, but I'd learned a long time ago to always be prepared.

The door to the back opened and a moment later, I saw Emmett and Alice stagger in, neither of them looking like they'd gotten any sleep. I worried about Alice, about the parts of her that she'd shared with us the night before. She was normally so closed off, so private when it came to her history. Like all of us, it was clear that she'd been through hell. One more person who had been used for someone else's enjoyment, both her body and her spirit from the sound of it.

Alice slipped onto one of the stools and shifted her eyes to me, a darkness filling them. "I need a double."

I nodded before grabbing a glass and giving her three fingers of whiskey. Emmett settled on a stool a couple down from hers, but didn't say anything as Alice picked up the glass and stared at the dark liquid before tossing it back like it was nothing but water. Slamming the glass onto the bar, Alice sighed. "I'm sorry about making a scene last night."

"You didn't," I said. "Want to talk about it? I'm a good listener."

Alice looked over at Emmett, who I noticed gave her a subtle nod before she turned back to me. "J was the first person who ever made me feel like I wasn't in the way," she murmured. "My mom never stayed in one town for more than a year. Tended to get ran out after fucking every married man she could, and if they weren't married, then well . . . they tended to like me more, and she didn't like that. When we moved to Houston, I thought maybe — just maybe — the scumbags she brought home wouldn't see me, wouldn't want me. And for a while, they didn't. Not that that made them worth shit. They were still assholes; they just didn't want to fuck me, too."

Sliding her finger around the rim of her glass, Alice seemed to forget that I was standing on the other side of the bar, or that Esme could hear what she was saying. Based on the frown on Emmett's face, he already knew Alice's story, not that I was surprised that she'd tell him and not me. Alice and Emmett had a bond that nobody could break through.

"J was the first boy to ever look at me, the real me. We were so . . . different, yet the same. His father . . . His son-of-a-bitch, motherfucking, asshole father treated him . . ." Alice shook her head and looked up at me. "J is the love of my life, Edward. I wanted everything with him, but then my mom started fucking his father, because that's what whores like her do. But he wasn't happy with just her. No, like so many before him, he found his way into my bed. Touching me, fucking me. I pleaded for him to stop, but he liked it when I cried. He said my momma had taught me how to be a good whore," she spat.

"When I found out that I was pregnant, I told J what his father had done to me, and he . . . he wanted to take me away. He said he wanted to marry me, to be my daughter's father." Alice brought her hand to her mouth. "His father and my mother found us at the bus station just before we could board the bus taking us away. They were furious, just outraged that we were leaving. His father denied that he had raped me, that he had gotten me pregnant. My mother believed him, because I was never more than a hindrance to her and she'd always made sure I knew how much I cost her. She assured him that I wouldn't be a problem and that night, she packed up our shit and we moved to Mississippi.

"Of course, I didn't know until after my daughter died that J's father had paid her off, paid her to get rid of my little problem, as he called it. I never saw J again. After my daughter passed away, I couldn't stay there anymore, not with the woman who had put me in the hands of monsters my entire life. So I left. I drifted around the country for a while before I found myself here. I was free for the first time, but at the same time, I wasn't."

Alice sniffed back her tears. "My daughter was beautiful. She was this tiny little human, and I loved her. I loved her so much. I wanted to be her mom, to be a better mom to her than mine was."

"You already were," I said, leaning down with my elbows on the bar. "Seems to me that your momma didn't give a fuck if you lived or died, Ally-Cat. But you did, right? You stayed by your daughter's side until the end, right?"

Alice nodded. "Three days, twelve hours, and sixteen minutes. I held her every second. The nurses kept telling me that I should put her down, that I was only hurting myself, but I couldn't. I needed to hold her, Edward."

"She died in your arms, feeling her mother's heartbeat, knowing that her momma loved her," I murmured, reaching across the bar and covering her hand with mine.

"You really think so?" Alice whimpered, and for the first time, I saw just how vulnerable she was. Like the rest of us, she'd put on this mask, this shield to protect herself, but inside, she was hurting.

"I do," I whispered. "And it's okay to move to let him back in, to want to be with him, to love him."

Alice shook her head. "It's too late."

"It's never too late, Ally-Cat," I said, straightening up. "I mean, if Bella can love me, then he can love you."

"Do you love her, Edward?" Emmett asked, causing us to look over at him.

I nodded. "More than I should. She's . . . she's my future."

"She needs you. You know that, don't you?" he pushed, but before I could reply, he spoke again. "She tries to hide how scared she is, how afraid she is to believe that you're real, that you're not just going to disappear. She needs you to save her, Edward."

"I need her, too," I admitted.

Emmett nodded, shifting his eyes away from mine. "Yeah, I know. Don't let her go. Don't make my mistakes."

Before I could question him further, he pushed himself away from the bar and walked over to the front doors. I shifted my eyes back to Alice, who had been watching him with a frown. "He and Rose fought last night." She looked over at me. "She was gone this morning. Pretty sure I'm to blame. Just one more way that I run everything for everyone."

Alice jumped off her stool and went into the VIP room to get it ready for tonight. Shifting my eyes to Esme, I noticed her watching all of us. She quickly turned away and I couldn't help but wonder when life was going to stop spinning out of control for any of us.

**Thank you for all the reviews. Such heavy chapters.**


	28. Chapter 28

BPOV

I was so nervous. Beyond nervous, I was terrified as I walked down the street. Sam's office was ten blocks and two streets away from where my apartment was located. Edward had offered to drive me, and I almost took him up on it, but I needed the time to think, to prepare myself for what I was about to do. I still wasn't sure the job was right for me, or that I could even do it. I wasn't an office girl, I wasn't anything. Just an artist. Why did Emily and Sam have so much confidence in my ability to do this job?

Stopping outside of the large, brick building, I had to stop myself from turning and leaving a dozen times. I could trust Sam, at least that was what I was telling myself. But I didn't know him, not really. Sure, he'd shared his story with me, but did that really mean anything? Was the fact that we'd both been damaged mean we shared a bond?

I took a deep breath, before reaching for the door handle. However, I had barely wrapped my hand around it when the door was pushed open and I found myself face to face with a tall, russet skinned man with long jet-black hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail, and dark eyes. He shifted his eyes down my body before looking back at my face, a smile tugging on his lips.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Bella."

His eyes widened, and his smile grew bigger. "Hmm, okay. Are you planning on coming in? Or were you planning on pacing out front all day? People might think you're a protester."

"Jake, stop being an ass." A hand grabbed the back the man's shirt and pulled him backward, and Sam caught the door before it could close, pushing it open for me. "Sorry about him. He's a douche, but I love him."

"I am not!" Jake called.

Sam glared at him from over his shoulder. "Shut the fuck up before you scare her." He turned back to me. "You okay?"

I nodded, though I wasn't sure I really was or not.

"You need a couple more minutes outside?" he asked.

I shook my head, again unsure of I was lying or telling the truth.

Sam grinned. "Are you going to speak today?"

Biting my lip, I shrugged my shoulders, causing him to laugh.

"Come on in, Bella. I promise not to let anyone hurt you," he said, speaking softly.

"Okay," I whispered.

Sam held the door open for me, making sure to give me plenty of room to step in around him. I felt silly for being so scared and nervous. When I walked inside, I found Emily standing behind a large oak desk. On top of the desk was a huge laptop, a phone, several pictures of her, Sam, and the girls. Behind her was a bookshelf that had dozens of what looked like law books, more pictures, and a printer. On the far side of the room stood Jake and another man, who looked very similar to Sam and Jake.

"Hey, Bella," Emily said, walking around the desk and stopping a couple feet away from me.

"Hey," I whispered, shifting my eyes at each of them and feeling very overdressed. Unlike me, who was wearing a skirt and a dressy tee, they were wearing shorts and T-shirts, looking like they were lounging around on Sunday afternoon instead of working on Wednesday.

"Bella," Sam said, drawing my attention to him. "I'd like you to meet my brothers. This is Jake and Seth. Guys, this is Bella."

Seth, clearly the youngest of the three, tilted his head in my direction. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," I replied, hating the way my voice shook.

An awkward silence filled the room, and I immediately felt uncomfortable. I could feel them watching me, waiting for me to fail. Nervously, I brought my hand up to the collar on my shirt, toying with edge. My stomach was a mess, and I was thankful that I hadn't eaten breakfast.

Clearing her throat, Emily drew everyone's attention to her. "I believe the three of you have work to do."

"Oh, yeah, right," Sam muttered, shifting his eyes to his brothers. "Jake, you need to finish your notes on the Garrison Case. Seth, Mr. Kauffman has called three times. Call him back."

Groaning, Seth nodded and turned and walked down a short hallway and into one of the offices. Jake gave me one more look before he followed his younger brother, going into an office across the hall from Seth's. Sam brought his hands together, the sound of them hitting startled me and I automatically flinched backward.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's okay," I groused, feeling stupid and ridiculous.

"Emily will get you started on the paperwork and after lunch, I'll give you a tour. The rest of our team will be in this afternoon." He paused. "If you need anything, just yell, okay?"

I nodded. He shifted his eyes over to Emily before turning and walking down the hallway and into the office at the end. The moment his door was closed, I released a heavy breath and turned back to Emily, who was watching me closely. It was odd and awkward, and I wanted her to stop, but at the same time, I wanted her to understand why I was scared, why I felt afraid of putting myself out there.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I need coffee." With a laugh, she turned and motioned for me to follow her. She led me down the hallway and into a room on the right, which turned out to be the break room. The large room was spacious and homey, yet I felt weird and out of place. There was a state-of-the-art fridge, stove, microwave, one of those single cup coffee makers, large sink, and a dishwasher.

"Pretty nice, right?" she asked, laughing as she gestured to the coffee maker. "We have every flavor you can imagine, and then some."

"It's nice," I agreed.

Emily smiled as she turned and looked at me. "You're completely overwhelmed, aren't you?"

I nodded. "I just . . . This is all . . ." I blew out a heavy breath. "I shouldn't be here."

"Yes, you should," she insisted, but before she could say anything else, Jake strolled into the break room. He paused for a moment, looking from me to Emily before walking past both of us and to the coffee maker.

"I'm thinking hazelnut sounds good," he murmured, pulling a small round K-cup out of the cabinet and placing it inside the machine. Then, he filled a coffee cup with water and poured it into the back. Closing the top, he pressed a flashing blue button and placed the cup inside the machine. Then, he turned and faced me and Emily.

"You're hot," he said.

"Jake!" Emily seethed, reaching over and popping him in the back of the bed.

"What the fuck, Emily?" he bellowed.

In an instant, Sam and Seth were inside the room and I found myself pressed against the wall, trembling as I watched the people standing across the room from me. Sam shifted his eyes from Jake to Emily to me, a frown tugging on his lips. "What is going on?"

"Your asshole brother is being inappropriate," Emily informed him and placed her hands on her hips.

Sam groaned and rounded on Jake. "Dude, we talked about this."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Jake whined. "All I said was that Bella's hot."

Clenching his hand into a fist, Sam gritted his teeth together as he looked over at me. "I apologize for my brother's idiocy."

"It's okay," I whispered, unsure if my words were even audible.

"No, it's not okay," he said, and then looked back at Jake. "In my office."

"Dude," Jake started, but shut his mouth when Sam grabbed the front of his shirt and pushed him toward the doorway. "Fine, just let me get my coffee."

Sam didn't say anything as he released his hold on Jake's shirt. Jake reached over and grabbed his coffee and then walked out of the room, but not without looking over at me and winking. Sam took a deep breath before he looked at me. "Again, I'm sorry about him. He's harmless, I swear. Just a flirt, and doesn't think about how other people might take his flirtations. He will not do anything like that again. You have my word."

I nodded. "Okay."

Sam shifted his eyes to Emily before he turned and walked passed Seth. A moment later, I heard the sound of his office door closing, following by the sound of him yelling at Jake.

"Um, I'm just gonna . . ." Seth trailed off as he walked over to the fridge, pulled it open, and grabbed a soda. He pushed the fridge door closed with his hip, tilted his head toward me, and walked out of the break room. Tears burned at my eyes, yet I couldn't seem to move. I could feel the small amount of control I had slipping, and I wanted Edward. I wanted his arms around me.

"Bella," Emily said, slowly, and I looked at her. "Honey, are you okay?"

My head bobbed up and down, though I couldn't seem to get a word out.

"No, no, you're not," she fretted, bringing her hand up to her chest. "What can I do to help?"

I shook my head, because there wasn't anything.

Emily sighed and shifted her attention around the break room, but before she could say anything else, the sound of the front door opening trickled into the room. She spared me a look before she turned and walked out to the front room. The moment she was gone, the flood gates broke and I slid to the floor, pulling my knees up in front of me. Gripping my head between my hands, I struggled to keep from screaming.

"Sorry about that," Emily said, walking back into the room. However, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me in the floor. "SAM!" she yelled and rushed over to me, kneeling next to me and slowly reaching out for my hands.

A moment later, the sound of Sam's door opening and him running out filled the air. He slid to a stop in the doorway. "Shit," he cursed, walking over to us. He knelt down next to his wife and covered her hands with his own. "Give us a few minutes."

Emily nodded as she stood up and walked out of the room, leaving me and Sam sitting there.

"Look at me, Bella," he murmured, and I shifted my eyes to his. "It's okay. Just take a deep breath, honey."

I tried — I really did — but I started choking. Sam released me and crawled over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. In a heartbeat, he was back at my side, one hand on my shoulder while the other placed the bottle at my lips. I felt like a child, yet I couldn't seem take it from him. Instead, I allowed him to pour the liquid into my mouth and hopped that it wouldn't come right back up.

"Talk to me, Bella," he murmured.

"I can't do this," I cried. "I'm can't!"

"What can't you do?" he asked.

"This," I exclaimed, waving a hand around. "I don't belong here. Working in an office like a normal person. I'm a waitress."

"That's bullshit, and you know it," he said, shifting so that he was sitting on the floor next to me. "You're scared, I get that, but you're doing great."

"Great?" I scoffed. "I'm freaking out here!"

"True," he laughed. "But I didn't expect you to come in here and have all your shit together. Now, I'm sorry for my brother. He really is harmless; he's just young and naïve."

"It's not him," I murmured. "It's everything, Sam. This place, the job . . ." I closed my eyes. "Life. It's not me."

Emily walked back into the room, clearing her throat and causing Sam and I to look over at her. "Sorry to interrupt, but he's getting annoyed about having to wait."

Sam nodded. "Tell him I'll be right there."

She shifted her eyes to me before she walked out of the room. Sam sighed. "Look, I have to go handle something. Are you going to be okay?"

"No," I admitted. "But I'll try."

"That's all we ask, Bella." Sam stood up and offered me his hand. Though I wanted to place mine in his and allow him to help me up, I shook my head and pushed myself up the wall. I wasn't ready to touch him, or trust him. I'd learned a long time ago to always be cautious around anyone, and Sam, as nice as he was, wasn't any different. Nodding, he took a step back, giving me space. I wrapped my arms around my torso as I followed him back to the front room. Emily was sitting behind her desk, but it was the person sitting across from her that had my attention.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, causing him to look over his shoulder at me.

Garrett's eyes narrowed as he stood up. "I should be asking you the same thing."

"You know each other?" Emily asked, pushing her chair back as she stood up.

"Not really," Garrett said. "Does Marcus know she's here?"

"No," Sam stated, and I shifted my attention up to his, though he refused to look at me. "My instructions called for me not to tell him. Yet, at least."

"What the fuck is going on?" I snapped, moving away from Sam, who finally turned to me. "Sam?"

He placed his hands on his hips, making it clear that he was hiding something from me. I shifted my attention from him to Emily to Garrett, and then back to him. "Someone had better start explaining!"

"Everyone calm down," Emily said, walking around the desk with her hands up. "Sam, you need to tell her. She deserves the truth."

I watched as his eyes fluttered closed and he heaved a hefty breath. "I told you that I knew who you were, that I knew about your family, but I never told you how I knew that."

"Yeah," I whispered.

Sam opened his eyes and looked at me. "I know all of that because . . ."

"Because why?"

"Because your father hired me to find you," Sam mumbled. "Charlie Swan owns this company."

**Thank you for all the reviews. Yep, I totally left it like that. Nope, I don't feel bad. Bella's fears have her all over the place.**


	29. Chapter 29

EPOV

By the time I locked the back door of the bar, I was exhausted and all I wanted was to get back to Bella's and wrap myself up in her arms. From the minute the doors opened, Murphy's Law had been slammed, and the flow never decreased. Not only were we pushing the capacity limit, but people were rude and demanding. More than once I had to intervene when one of guys put their hands on Alice or Esme, and Emmett tossed more than a few out on their asses with a little more force than what was needed.

Carlisle had stopped in an hour ago and swept Esme off her feet — literally. He carried her out of the bar like she was fucking princess and he was her knight in shining armor, but while it was disgusting, I was glad that she had him. He took care of her, loved her. She deserved someone who was going to treat her like she mattered.

"You want to go get some pie, Edward?" Alice asked, sliding her arm in with Emmett's.

"No, I'm going to head over to Bella's," I told her. Honestly, I was disappointed that Bella hadn't stopped by the bar after work, even if it had just been for a few minutes. I'd been worried about her all night, wondering how her first day had gone.

"Oh." The tone she used was full of unspoken accusations, but before I could say anything, she was pulling Emmett down the alley. He'd been in a mood all night, and all because Rose had left. Was their fight really because of Alice's friendship with Emmett?

Straddling my bike, I put on my helmet, jump-started it, and headed toward Bella's, needing to see her more than before. She'd been so nervous about the new job with Sam, so sure that she'd fail. Had she? Had she shown up and they realized she couldn't do it? I hoped not because she couldn't take that kind of rejection, not after finding her birth family.

I parked in front of the building and headed inside, and up to her floor. When I got to Bella's apartment, I found her door wide open. My heart was racing as I dropped my helmet and keys on the floor and walked inside. Bella was sitting on the floor in front of her painting of her family. Spattered on the floor around her were pieces of her other paintings and a pair of scissors. It looked like she'd cut them to shreds, all of them but the one of her family. Hanging from her finger tips was an almost empty bottle of vodka.

Clearing my throat, I pulled her attention away from the painting and to me. "Hey," I said, quietly. "You okay?"

"Never better," she slurred, tossing the bottle on the floor. It hit the baseboard with a clunk. Bella shifted so that she was on her hands and knees, crawled over to me, and placed her hands on my legs so that she was kneeling in front of me. Her lips curved up into a smile, but there was something off about it, something that had me feeling uneasy. "I've missed you, lover. I thought you were never going to get here."

"I missed you, too. You sure you're okay?"

She nodded and slid her hands up my legs, gripping the front of my jeans. "Why wouldn't I be? Everything's great, right? Great new job, I have a family now, I have you. I have everything."

And once again, I could hear the sardonic tone lacing her words, and that had me feeling uneasy. "I don't know," I murmured, placing my hands on hers and pulling her to her feet. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough," she giggled, slipping her hands out of my mine and stumbling into the kitchen. She came back with another bottle of vodka in her hands. She leaned against the wall and took a huge swig, before holding it out to me. "Want one?"

I shook my head. "I don't think you need anymore, either."

"Probably not," she whispered, but took another drink anyway. And then another, and another, and another. Letting the bottle slip from her fingers, it crashed onto the floor, tipping over and spilling out onto the carpet. "Oops," she giggled.

Bella pushed away from the wall and walked over to me, grabbing the front of my shirt and ripping it open. She leaned forward and licked my chest. "Yummy."

I placed my hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. "What's going on, Bella?"

"Nothing," she purred, reaching for the front of my pants. "Can't a woman want to fuck her boyfriend?"

My eyes flew open and I grabbed her hands. "What?"

"I said I want to fuck you," she growled, grabbing the front of my pants again and trying to undo them. I wrapped my hands around hers, which was the wrong move because she started screaming and pushed me back against the wall. "Take your clothes off!"

"No," I whispered.

Bella clamped her lips together, her nostrils flaring as she ripped her T-shirt off. She wasn't wearing a bra or panties, and I couldn't stop myself from looking over her nude body. "Yeah, you like me, don't you, lover," she cooed, sitting on the couch with her legs perched up in front of her. One of her hands was playing with her nipples while the other was sliding down her stomach, cupping her pussy. "Don't you want to fuck me, baby? Hmm? I'm sure you've imagined sticking your cock in me. Or maybe you're an ass man. Do you want to fuck my ass?"

"S…stop," I stammered, taking a deep breath and looking away from her. "I don't know what's going on, but you need to stop."

In an instant, Bella was on her feet and standing in front of me. She grabbed my face with the hand that had been on her breast, while trying to shove her fingers that had been playing with her pussy in my mouth. "Taste me, damn it!" she screamed. "Fuck me, take me, make me cry! That's what guys want, isn't it? To see us broken, to watch us cry! Just hurt me already!"

"No," I whimpered, and somehow, I managed to put my hands on her shoulders and push her backward. "I don't know what's going on with you, Bella, but this isn't you."

"You don't know me," she groused, grabbing her shirt off the floor and putting it back on. "I thought you loved me, but I guess you don't."

"I do. I do love you, but not like this," I said.

"Then get out," she snarked, gesturing to the still open door.

"Bella," I started, but she swung her arm at me, scratching the side of my neck with her nails. "Jesus fuck, Bella!"

"Get out!" she screamed, swing for me once again. However, I ducked out of the way and grabbed my helmet and keys as I ran out her apartment. Bella slammed the door shut behind me and a moment later, I heard the door lock. Sliding to the floor, I tried to take a deep breath. What the hell has just happened?

"What the fuck is going on?" I looked over and saw Carlisle rushing down the hallway to Bella's apartment with Esme right behind him. "We could hear her screaming from my place."

I scrambled to my feet, curling my hand into a fist. "I don't . . . I don't know. I just . . ." I shook my head and started to walk past them, but stopped when Esme reached out and placed her hand on my arm. I looked over at her. "Don't."

And without giving her the chance to say anything else, I walked away.

—SMTS—

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

I shifted my eyes up from the clipboard I was trying desperately to focus my attention on, and shook my head, which just caused Esme to sigh. She had come into the bar an hour before her shift was scheduled to start, but hadn't said a word until just no. I wasn't a complete idiot, I knew why she had come in early. She wanted information about last night. Hell, so did I.

I didn't remember making the drive back to my apartment, or even walking into the shit-box I lived in. I didn't remember throwing my helmet against the wall, or grabbing punching my fist through the wall, either. Thank God the plaster was flimsy and other than busting my knuckles, I didn't do any real damage. Not that it mattered, of course.

"You can trust me," Esme said, and I almost laughed because it hadn't been that long ago that I said those exact words to her, only for her to tell me that I didn't know her.

"Yeah?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. She nodded. "Fine." I placed my pen on top of the clipboard. "I have no fucking idea what happened last night. I walked in and found her drunk. She . . . she just . . ." I shook my head. "That wasn't Bella. Not the one I fell in love with. She scared me last night. It was like . . ." I swallowed against the lump in my throat, and I brought my hand up to the back of my neck.

"It's okay," Esme murmured, reaching for my arm, but I pulled away.

"Don't," I whispered. "Just don't touch me right now, okay? Please."

She nodded.

"I don't . . . I don't like talking about myself, about my life. It's hard."

"I didn't mean to pry," Esme whispered.

"Last night, standing in Bella's apartment, watching her be so . . . vulgar . . . it just brought up a lot of memories, a lot of things I want to forget," I said, my voice thick with my emotions. "I could . . . I could feel hands and breath and . . ." I shuddered. "That wasn't my Bella, not last night." I shifted my attention to Esme. "Was she okay? After . . . after I left, was she okay?"

Esme pressed her lips together for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Carlisle forced his way into her apartment, and dragged her into the bedroom. I ended up falling asleep on the couch."

"Oh." I wasn't sure how to take that. I mean, I knew that Bella and Carlisle were best friends, but he was supposed to be with Esme, right? So why was he in Bella's room all night?

"Yeah, oh," she replied, dryly. "She left before I woke up, and he wouldn't tell me anything. Just kept saying that she had some shit to handle." Esme snorted and picked up her bottle of water. "Don't we all."

I nodded. "Yep."

"Can I ask you something else?"

And once again, I almost laughed, but didn't. Nothing was funny, not even Esme's lame attempts at trying to make me talk to her. Yeah, I forced myself into her life, to protect her, but I didn't want the same from her. Call me a hypocrite, because that's what I was. "You just did."

"You said you love her."

I shifted my eyes to her again. "That wasn't a question."

Esme rolled her eyes. "Do you love her?"

I nodded.

"Why?"

"Why do I love her?" I mused, and released a heavy breath. "I don't know. She . . . The first I saw her, I as mesmerized by her. She was like. . . Well, she was like an angel. She left speechless, and felt this urge to be more than I was."

"Who were you?" she asked.

"Nobody. I was a nobody," I admitted. "I had worked so hard to be normal, to not . . . be the boy that left Chicago, that I got lost. I didn't have a life, I never . . . smiled, or laugh, or anything. But she made want to smile." I shook my head. "I know this sounds crazy. I can't even explain it to myself, much less to you."

"I keep thinking about what my life was like . . . you know, before. I thought I was happy. I was alone, but I thought I was okay. I liked my job, liked the people I worked with, but now, I'm starting to see that maybe, just maybe, I was broken well before that night in the alley."

"And are you still broken?" I asked.

Esme shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Sometimes I get this feeling, like breathing will stop hurting, but then it goes away, and I struggle to do anything. You? Are you broken, Edward?"

I nodded. "But I don't remember there ever being a time in my life when I wasn't broken, Esme."

"Not even when you were a kid?" she asked.

"Especially not when I was a kid," I muttered as the door to the back opened and then closed. Emmett and Alice trickled into the bar with Ben following behind them, looking exhausted. He tilted his head back and I frowned when I saw the rope burn around his neck.

"Don't ask," he groused.

"Should I be worried?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Hmm," I scoffed. "If you say so."

"Tell you what, Edward," Ben stated, grabbing the pan of clean mugs from the top of the bar. "You worry about yourself, and I'll worry about me and Ang."

"Fine," I murmured.

While Ben started to unload the tray, Esme headed to her section to get her tables ready. Alice was already in the VIP room, and Emmett was perched up on his stool next to the door, his own clipboard propped up on his knees. Things were out of control, and I didn't know how to make it stop. Emmett was hurting, Esme was lost, Ben was in denial about his relationship with Angela, and Alice was barely keeping her life together. And me? I wanted to go back to how things were yesterday morning, when I found myself wrapped in the arms of the woman I'd falling in love with.

**Thank you for all the reviews. Now, I know this chapter is odd, but it was Edward's turn. You must remember that the Bella in this chapter is dealing with what has told her about Charlie, about the company. Next chapter is back to her POV and we learn what fueled her odd behavior, besides the alcohol, so I hope you will stick this one out with me. **


	30. Chapter 30

BPOV

"Because your father hired me to find you," Sam mumbled. "Charlie Swan owns this company."

Thirteen words and my entire world shattered around me — again. My father, the old man, had hired Sam to find me, to follow me, to spy on me, yet he never approached me, never indicated that I was anything more than a waitress to him. The father I'd known before I was taken wouldn't have let me live day after day waiting of the next shoe to drop, would he?

"I don't . . . I don't understand," I muttered, ending the silence that filled the office. "You were hired to find me?"

Sam nodded. "Six years ago, I was on the verge of losing my company. A tough economy had us barely able to make ends meet. Emily and I thought we were going to be forced to declare bankruptcy. Jake was just starting high school, Seth was still in elementary school. Bridgett was a baby, and we . . . we were at the end of our rope. We couldn't provide for our family, and we thought we were going to lose everything. Then one day, Charlie stumbled in. He . . . he told us about you, Bella, about how you'd been kidnapped, and how the police, the FBI hadn't been able to track you down. He was desperate for help, desperate to find you. He offered to triple my rates, and I . . . I couldn't turn down the money. I needed to provide for my family, and he was offering me a big payday," he admitted.

"He didn't have much to go on. All they knew was that you were abducted from your school by an older, white male. Charlie and Renee suspected that Phil Dwyer had been the man who kidnapped you, but according to the police department, he had an airtight alibi. However, he vanished not long after you did. The police refused to make the connection, and spent their time looking at other people with motives."

"Like who?" I asked.

"Charlie had made a few enemies over the years. He was a shark in the boardroom, and he had to make a lot of tough decisions. Some of those decisions cost people their jobs, their futures, and they didn't make their displeasure with your father a secret. The police spent weeks weeding through them, trying to find out if one of them had taken you, meanwhile your parents were going crazy. They pleaded with Phil Dwyer to bring you back, offered a substantial amount of money for your return."

I wrapped my arms around my torso, and shook my head. "I don't . . . I don't understand. If they offered him money, why didn't he take it? That's all he wanted me for, right? The more I painted, the more money he made. That's . . . that's what he told me."

Sam shifted his eyes to Garrett before he spoke. "Phil Dwyer didn't take you because he wanted — or needed — money, Bella. He was a predator. He preyed on children, used them for his own perverted games."

"But . . . No, because he told me that I owed him, that he sold my paintings because I cost him so much," I insisted. "That's why he . . ." I blew out a deep breath and shook my head. "I owed him."

"Emily," Sam murmured. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead, she sighed and walked past him, down the hallway to his office. "I didn't want you to find out like this. We've worked so hard to . . . keep you out of all of this."

"Out of what?" I asked.

Emily walked back into the room with a large file folder in her hands. She handed it to Sam, who murmured, "Thanks." Inhaling a sharp breath, he turned back to me. "This is everything I have on your kidnapping."

As Sam held the file out to me, I felt my heart race. "I don't want that."

"Yes, you do," he said. "You need to know."

"I don't need to know anything about him!" I screamed, causing him, Emily, and Garrett to flinch backward. Jake and Seth came running into the room, their eyes flittering from me to the file in Sam's hands, and I knew — without a doubt — that they were familiar with my story, too. Just more pity that I didn't need or want.

"Yes, you do," Sam said, calmly as he walked around the desk and stood in front of me. "Phil Dwyer is the grandson of one of the richest families in the world, Bella. Not the United States, but the world. The Kennedy's, Donald Trump, the Rockefeller's, all of them look like peasants compared to the Dwyer family. They have deep pockets and are involved in a lot of shady dealings, but Phil Dwyer is by far the worst."

Sam paused. "It took a long time, a lot of digging, but I found out that Phil Dwyer had quite the history before he kidnapped you."

"What kind of history?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"When he was sixteen, he was accused of molesting the daughter of the family's housekeeper. The girl was only five, and her mother claimed that she'd walked in while Phil was touching the girl inappropriately. The woman was outraged and called the police, demanding that they arrest Phil immediately. However, two weeks after she made her accusation, the woman recanted her story, and she and her daughter left the country. I found her living in a Villa in the South of France. She was reluctant to speak to me, but finally admitted that the family had paid her off if she changed her story and never spoke about it again. Her daughter had killed herself a year before."

"Because of what he'd done to her?" I asked.

Sam nodded. "Most likely. The family was willing to do anything to keep their family name clean. Phil was sent away not long after, and he didn't resurface until he was twenty years old."

"Where'd he go?"

"The family did a very good job at hiding their dirty little secrets, but I found traces of him in Italy, Rome, England, Ireland, and everywhere he had been were a trail of little girls who had been victimized by a white male matching Phil Dwyer's description. When he finally came back to the states, he became very reclusive. There was very little I could find about what he did, where he was. A few sightings in New York, Atlanta, Chicago, and Seattle."

I inhaled a sharp breath. "Seattle?"

Hesitating a moment, he nodded. "Three weeks after his sighting in Seattle, you were gone. The police questioned him, but he had an alibi. With the focus off him, he was able to slip away. He wasn't seen or heard from again. Not until . . ."

"Until?" I pressed.

"Until my team and I tracked him to Arizona," he muttered.

My lips trembled, and my voice cracked. "A . . . Arizona?"

Grief filled his eyes. "There had been a series of attempted abductions in the Flagstaff area. Five girls between the ages of five and ten had been approached by a white man in his early thirties, who had dark brown eyes and hair. Sound familiar?"

I turned from him as I nodded. The face of the man who'd tormented me for years, who'd stolen my life, my innocence, flashed through my mind, and I struggled to keep the whimper locked inside of me. I'd spent the last two years doing everything I could push him out of my head, not that it did any good. He was always there, always haunting me.

"I tracked him down, found his compound outside of the city, and was able to lead the police to him, and . . . and to you. Once the police found you, I left and caught a flight back to here."

"You just left me there?" I murmured. "Left me there alone?"

"Bella," Sam murmured.

"Twelve years," I whispered. "Twelve years of hell, of pure hell, and you just left me alone."

"I know."

I faced him. "You don't know," I seethed. "Twelve years, Sam! Twelve years of being afraid every time I heard the door to my room being unlocked. Twelve years of being told that I was worthless and stupid and ugly and good for only one thing! Years of being used and abused. You have no idea what it felt like to be seven years old and told that Mommy and Daddy didn't want you anymore!"

Sam flinched as he took a step backward, and Emily covered her mouth in an attempt to keep from sobbing, but it didn't help because I could heard the muffled tears. Automatically wrapping my arms around my chest, I looked around the room. Jake and Seth looked shocked and a little frightened, while Garrett seemed complacent, and that's when it hit me: the way he'd been so rude and crass toward me.

"You knew, didn't you?" I asked. "Before the test, you knew the truth about me."

Everyone turned and looked at Garrett, who cleared his throat. "I did."

"You never told them." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "My . . . my mom or Marcus."

Garrett shared a look with Sam before he shook his head. "I was told not to."

"Who told you?" I demanded.

He pressed his lips together, so I turned Sam. "Why did you offer me this job?"

"I told you —"

"The truth!" I screamed, curling my hands into fists. "Did the old man tell you to give me this job?" Though he didn't reply, I saw the truth in his eyes, on the guilt that sat heavily on Emily's shoulders. "Was this all just a game to you? Did you enjoy watching me fall apart? Did you take bets on how I'd handle this? Ten bucks that she cries, twenty that she curses, fifty that she goes nuts!"

"No, of course not," Sam insisted, reaching for me, but I shuffled away from him. "Bella."

"You can't just fuck around my emotions like this," I cried.

"That's not what we were doing," Garrett said.

"Bullshit," I spat.

"We weren't," Sam insisted once again. "When I found you in Arizona, when I stopped Phil Dwyer from hurting you or anyone ever again, I went to Charlie and told him everything I'd found. He thanked me and paid me for my work, and I thought we were done. Then three months later he showed up again and offered to buy my firm and act as a silent partner. I was . . . hesitant because I didn't want someone coming in and changing the way I do things, but he made me a good offer. He only had two conditions, Bella. He told me that you had just moved to Vegas and asked that I keep an eye on you."

"So that's why you came to the diner," I mumbled, and my eyes filled with tears.

"Yeah," Emily said. "But the more we got to know you, the more we began to care about you. And the girls, Bella, the girls adore you!"

"Hmm," I hummed. "What was the second condition?"

Sam clenched his lips together for a moment before he said, "He asked that when the time came, when the truth was out, that I bring you into the business, but only when you were emotionally ready for such a change."

"Why?" I demanded.

He shook his head. "I don't know, and when I asked, he said I didn't need to know."

"Need to know," I whispered, shaking my head. Shifting my eyes up to Sam's, I said, "You told me I could trust you."

"And you can," he blurted out.

"No, I can't," I scoffed. "You don't know how hard it was to come here today." I walked over to Emily's desk and picked up my bag, aware of the way everyone was watching me. Turning back to Sam, I said, "You can take this job and go to hell. I don't need favors from anyone, especially you."

"Bella," he said reaching for me, but I pulled myself out of his reach before he could touch me.

"I've owed enough people for one life time. The price . . . I wasn't a whore for Phil Dwyer, and I won't be one for you, Sam, or the old man."

As I left Sam and Emily, Jake and Seth, and Garrett standing there, I struggled to keep the tears burning my eyes from falling, struggled to keep myself from falling apart. Felt like it took an eternity for me to walk back to my apartment, and when I stumbled in through the door, I was gasping for air. Leaving the door open, I rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of vodka from the freezer, and sliding to the floor, I twisted the cap off and chugged as much as I could. Once again, my life was spinning out of control, and all I wanted was Edward.

—SMTS—

"Wake your ass up," Carlisle snarled, kicking the side of my bed.

I groaned and rolled from my side onto my back. My head was throbbing. Of course, it wasn't until I rolled over that I realized I wasn't wearing panties, just a T-shirt that I'd stolen from Edward. Sitting up, I brought the sheet up to my chest and looked around.

"Nothing happened," Carlisle said, sitting on the side of my bed and offering me a cup of coffee. As he lobbed his head to the side, I saw a set of scratches along his neck. "Drink. You're gonna feel like shit if you don't."

I placed the cup on my nightstand and reached over, touching the marks. He winced and stood up. "Carlisle, what happened to your neck?"

He turned and looked down at me. His eyes were cold and lifeless. "It doesn't matter. You need water and aspirin. You're going to feel like shit today."

"What happened to your neck, Carlisle?" I asked, again, and stood up.

He clenched his jaw and placed his hands on his hips. "I've seen you in a bad place before, Bella. I've seen you drunk, seen you scared, seen you cry, but I've never seen you like I did last night. I've never . . . you've never . . ." He brought his hand up to his neck and shook his head.

"What did I do?" I whimpered, causing him to look over at me.

"You don't remember?" he asked, clearly surprised.

As I shook my head, tears sprinkled down my cheeks.

Carlisle snorted. "Can't say I'm surprised. I've never seen you that drunk before."

"Did I hurt you?" I whispered.

He pressed his lips together as he nodded. "You were, um, aggressive last night. Probable why Edward left the way he did."

"Edward?" I gasped, my eyes flying open. "Edward was here?"

Lifting an eyebrow, Carlisle said, "You don't remember him coming over after he closed down the bar?"

"I don't remember anything about last night," I muttered, gathering a pair of jeans off the floor and pulling them on.

"Where are you going?" he asked, skirting around the bed and grabbing my arms.

"Where do you think?" I scoffed. "I need to see Edward."

"No, you need to sit down and tell me what happened yesterday that set you off," he argued, pulling me down onto the bed. "Bella, you . . . you tried to get me to sleep with you last night," he whispered, speaking so low that I barely heard him.

"What?"

He shifted his eyes to mine. "Esme and I heard you screaming, and when we got here, Edward was out in the hallway. His shirt had been ripped open, and . . ."

"And what?" I asked.

"There was a look in his eyes, Bella. One that I've seen in yours. He looked terrified."

"Oh, my God," I cringed, leaning forward and placing my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands.

"What happened between you two?" he asked.

"I don't . . . I don't know," I cried. "Yesterday was . . . and I came home . . . I guess I drank too much because I don't know what happened." I shifted my attention to him. "I made a move on you?"

He nodded. "After Edward left, Esme and I came in to try and calm you down. You were in the kitchen throwing your dishes on the floor, so I wrapped my arms around you and dragged you into the bathroom. I threw you in the tub and turned on the cold water. You . . . you grabbed me through my pants and said you want to fuck me."

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, standing up.

"I managed to get you to release me, but when I carried you in here, you started clawing my neck. I had to hold you down until you feel asleep," he explained.

"I am so sorry, Car. I would never . . ." I trailed off as I leaned against my dresser. "Why are you here?"

"I just told you," he said.

"No, why are you here?" I pleaded. "I treated you like crap last night. Where is Esme? Shouldn't you be with her?"

"She's in the living room," he replied.

I shook my head and slid my feet into a pair of flip flops. "You shouldn't be in here with me, Carlisle. I'm not worth losing her for."

"Where are you going?" he asked.

I looked over at him. "To talk to Edward. To, I don't know, try and figure out why everything I've known about the last few years was a lie." I walked to him and placed my hand on his cheek. Leaning down, I gave him a soft kiss. "Thanks, though, for not hating me."

"I could never hate you, Bell."

Leaving Carlisle sitting on my bed, I walked into the living room. Esme was curled up in a ball with a thin blanket over her. I grabbed my bag off the floor and left, knowing that I'd need to take the time to explain to her what had happened, too. She was good for Carlisle, and I didn't want my selfishness to get in the way of their relationship.

However, instead of going to Edward's apartment, I found myself standing in front of the hospital once again. I didn't understand why the old man had kept himself away from me, why he had never told me that he was my father, or told Renee and Marcus where I was. Was I that much of a disappointment? Was he ashamed that I hadn't made more of an impact on the world? Maybe he blamed me for Phil Dwyer's terror over my life, maybe he felt I was to blame for every horrid thing I went through. But then, why did he keep coming into the diner every day? Why have Sam watch me?

"Are you going in?" Looking over my shoulder, I saw Garrett standing there. Unlike the previous times I'd seen him, he was wearing a pair of dark blue scrubs.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Why are you here?"

"I work here," he said.

"Thought you owned your own business?" I asked.

"I do," he replied, "but believe it or not, there isn't a huge demand for free-lance forensic work here in the city, and Sam doesn't have any active cases that need me, so I work here in the lap. Gotta make rent somehow."

I nodded and turned back to the hospital. "How long have you known?"

"Three years." He came to stand next to me. "Once Sam narrowed in on Phil Dwyer, he managed to ahold of a DNA sample from you. He asked me to run it against a sample we'd gotten from Charlie. It was a match."

"Then why bother with the new test?"

Garrett sighed. "Because Marcus wasn't going to understand if I'd told him straight out that you were his sister. He needed to see you take the test, to see the results himself. He's a kid, Bella. He had to grow up too soon, and he's trying his damnest to be a man, but he's just a kid."

"Yeah, I know," I murmured. "I know all too well about being a kid who had to grow up too fast."

"I didn't mean that you didn't." Garrett shifted his body so that he was facing me. "You're angry, and you have every right to be, but don't let your anger cause you to miss out on opportunities to become more than just that girl who was used and abused."

Tears flooded my eyes as I turned and looked at him. "Used and abused, huh? Is that who you think I am? Maybe you're right, Garrett; maybe I am holding onto my anger. But I spent twelve years believing that my family, the people who were supposed to love and protect me, had sent me away to live with a monster because I was burden. Then, I'm told that was a lie, that they loved me, that they searched for me, but the old man, my father, he knew where I was, and he never said anything to me. I don't know who I am anymore. And that's a hell-of-a-lot scarier than being the girl who was used and abused."

And before he could make a snarky comment, I walked away from him and into the hospital. As I stepped into the elevator, I saw Garrett walk into the building with his cell phone pressed against his ear. The doors started to close, and he turned back to me, a frown tugging on his lips.

The door to the old man's room was open when I got there. He turned and looked at me, the left side of his face didn't move as he smiled. "Bella," he slurred, the end of my name dragging.

"Hey, old man," I murmured, dropping my bag on the chair and walking over to the bed. He reached out and grabbed my hand, clenching it tightly. "Looks like you're getting stronger."

He nodded.

"I don't . . ." I shook my head. "I want to hate you. I want to scream at you for lying to me, for watching me, for being an asshole every damn day."

The old man frowned. "Sorry."

"Everyone's sorry, aren't they?" I whispered. "You've known where I was for years. Why didn't you tell me who you were?"

"Weren't ready," he slurred.

"I don't care if you weren't ready for me, I deserved to know!" I explained.

He shook his head, and pulled his hand out of mine, pointing a shaky finger at me. "You not ready."

"I wasn't ready?" I asked, and he nodded, grabbing my hand again. "That's bullshit. You just didn't want me around anymore."

"Not true," he stammered, and the monitor measuring his heart rate started alarming.

I slipped my hands out of his and grabbed his face. "Calm down, old man. You're gonna have another stroke."

"Everything okay in here, Mr. Swan?" A nurse asked, rushing into the room. Her strawberry blond hair bounced off her back as she reached the side of his bed. Her eyes drifted from him to me, a grimace replacing the smile she'd had for the old man. "Sweetheart, visiting hours haven't started."

"They started ten minutes ago." She and I both looked to the door where we found Renee and Marcus standing. Renee had a glare on her face as she stared down the nurse. "And she's allowed to be here anytime she wants. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mrs. Swan," the nurse replied, tightly.

She looked at me once again before she reset the old man's monitors and walked out of the room. Marcus and Renee walked over to the bed. While Marcus stood on the other side, Renee was next to me. She wrapped her arm around my shoulder, and I struggled to keep from pushing her arm off of me.

"We weren't expecting you this morning," Renee said. "Thought you were starting a new job."

I shifted my eyes from her to the old man. "I did, but I don't think it's going to work out."

The old man frowned.

"Why not?" Marcus asked.

I looked up at him. "Because I can't trust them. If I can't trust them, I can't work for them."

"That makes sense," Renee said. "We were going to grab a bite to eat. Would you like to join us?"

"I, um . . ." I shook my head. "I can't." Pushing away from the bed, I walked over to the chair and grabbed my bag. I turned back to them, looking at Marcus, then Renee, and finally down to the old man. "Sorry."

Turning, I walked out of the room. I was almost at the elevator when Renee called out, "Bella, wait!"

I sighed and stopped, and turned back to her.

"I, um," she stammered, as she dug through the small, black clutch she carried. A moment later, she pulled out a shiny black credit card and held it out to me. "Here."

"What's that?" I asked, pushing it back toward her.

"It's a credit card." She said that like it wasn't a big deal, like it was normal for her to hand someone she didn't know the card. "It's yours."

"Excuse me?" I scoffed. "I don't have a credit card."

"I, um, I had this one issued for you," she said, trying once more to give it to me.

"What? I don't want your money," I spat.

"I know, I know, I just . . ." She huffed and looked around before stepping closer to me and grabbing my hand, placing the card against the palm and wrapping my fingers around it. "This money is yours."

"No, it's not," I groused, trying to push it back toward her.

"It's from the trust fund that your grandparents left you when they died. Dad and I added to it over the years, and, well, it's yours now."

Wrapping her arms around me quickly, Renee gave me a hug before she turned and nearly ran down the hallway, leaving me holding a card that most likely held more money than I'd ever seen before. I shoved the card into my back pocket and stepped into the elevator, wanting nothing more than to leave. I wasn't Isabella, the daughter they'd had stolen away from them. I didn't know who I was, and that scared me.

**Thank you for all the reviews.**


	31. Chapter 31

EPOV

"Em, flash the lights. It's last call," I hollered over the crowd.

He barely nodded before he reached over and flashed the lights on and off, alerting the drunks that they had time for one last drink before they had to leave. As usual, Murphy's Law had been slammed, and on more than one occasion, I'd had to leave Ben at the bar and take care of a couple of grabby assholes. I wasn't in the mood to be nice about it, and I made it clear we didn't put up with that bullshit here.

After another twenty minutes, everyone had left and Emmett locked the door. He reached over the bar top and grabbed two bottles of beer before sitting down at the far end of the bar. Popping the top off the first, he drained it in about three large gulps, and then opened the second beer, slurping half of it down.

Alice and Esme cleaned up the dining room before joining us at the bar, where Ben and I were working on restocking everything.

"Fuck, I'm beat," Alice said, laying her head on Emmett's shoulder. He turned and pressed his forehead against the top of hers, but didn't say anything.

"Me, too," Esme murmured, checking her watch.

"Carlisle coming to get you?" I asked.

She shifted her eyes to me. "No. He's working the night shift, so . . ."

I nodded as someone knocked on the door to the bar. Emmett muttered under his breath as he stood up and walked over to it, turned the lock, and pushed it open. He paused and looked back at Alice before stepping backward and letting Jasper. Alice inhaled a sharp breath as she slid off her stool and shifted so that she was facing him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Came to see you."

"J," she murmured.

"I just . . . I just want to talk," he said, stepping toward her. Alice brought her arms up, wrapping them around her torso. "Please, Al?"

"Fine," she sighed. "You got any money?"

"A little," he replied.

"Enough for pie and coffee?" Alice asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Jasper smiled. "Yeah, I think I can handle that."

Alice nodded and shifted her eyes to me before walking over to him and offering him her hand. Slowly, he wove their fingers together, and Edward felt the pangs of envy and jealousy. He wanted Bella like that, to be able to hold her, but after last night, he wasn't sure she'd ever want him again, or if he could trust himself with her. He was in love with her, but she'd terrified him by her behavior.

Alice and Jasper stopped next to Emmett. "You going to be okay, Em?" Alice asked.

He nodded. "Just be careful, okay?" Though he was talking to Alice, he was giving Jasper a look that made it clear that he wasn't to be fucked with.

"I will," Alice replied, leaning up and kissing his cheek. "I'll call you."

Emmett locked the door behind them and then looked over at me, Ben, and Esme. "I'm heading out."

"Take Esme with you," I said, causing Esme to look at me. "You can't be alone. Carlisle's working, which means you're vulnerable. Em will protect you with his life."

Esme scoffed and stood up. "Maybe you should worry about yourself, Edward. Your life is more fucked up than mine."

Nodding, I said, "Yeah, I know. Just go with him. I need to know that at least one person I care about is safe."

Though I could tell Esme felt I was overreacting, she left with Emmett. I needed to know that she was okay. Ben left right after they did, leaving me alone to finish the last few things that needed to be taken care of. Once I had them done, I shut off the lights and walked out the backdoor, locking the door behind me. However, when I turned toward my motorcycle, I was surprised to see Bella leaning against it.

I wanted to rush to her, wrap my arm around her, and hold her in my arms again, to kiss her lips and know that she was mine, but I was afraid. She'd rocked my world last night, and I wasn't sure what would happen now.

"Busy night?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

Bella leaned off my bike, taking two steps toward me. However, before I could stop myself, I found myself scooting away from her. She sighed. "Guess I fucked things up, huh?"

I nodded. Bella grimaced, and I hated that I couldn't make her feel better. "I'm just . . . I'm just not sure what happened last night."

"Me, either," she admitted, shoving her hands into the back pocket of her jeans. "I know it's not an excuse, but I was drunk. I don't even remember what I did, just what Carlisle's told me."

"You're right, it's not an excuse," I said, leaning against the back door. "You made me feel . . . you made me feel like I was nothing more than cheap whore, Bella, and it's been a long time since someone made me feel like I was good for nothing but a quick fuck."

Bella winced, and I felt bad for making her feel guilty.

"What happened yesterday?" I asked.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "I knew that the job was too good to be true." She opened her eyes and looked at me. "It turns out the only reason Sam offered me the job was because the old man told him to. When I was ready, of course. My father not only knew that I was here in Vegas for two years without ever approaching me, but he hired Sam to find me."

"What?" I pressed, taking a step toward her, but stopped when Bella put her hands up in front of her.

"I always thought I was taken because of my artwork, because _he_ wanted to exploit my work, but it turns out that _he's_ just another child predator," she cried. "_He _made me feel like I owed him the right to rape me, Edward. And I believed him so I stopped fighting, I stopped crying and screaming and begging him not to hurt me. Not that _he_ listened. _He_ got off on my pain, got off on how much it hurt when _he_ fucked me like a dirty little whore."

"He manipulated you, Bella. He knew exactly what to say for you to let your guard down. That's how they work."

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her torso as she shivered. "He was pissed. The night he . . . got caught, or whatever, he was . . . so angry. He'd been out all day, and when he got back, he came storming into my room. I'd learned to listen for him, to expect him, but I'd gotten lost in a painting, and I didn't hear him." Bella paused and looked away, almost like she was stuck in a memory. "He, um, he grabbed my hair and slammed me against the wall. I hit my face, broke my nose. He spun me around and wrapped his hand around my throat. I could smell the booze on his breath as he leaned toward me. His fingers were digging into my skin, and I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the painting I'd been working on and said it was crap, that I'd failed him again. I begged him to let me go, but he laughed. Fucking laughed as he threw me onto the bed. He climbed on top of me and began ripping my clothes off, punching and slapping me. Calling me a whore, telling me that he was going to make me pay for ruining his life, for not being enough for him."

Bella brought her hand up to her mouth, trying her hardest to stifle the sobs that spilled from her mouth. I wanted to stop her, wanted her to stop telling me, but I found myself unable to speak.

"He kept hitting me, just over and over. And as he forced my legs apart, as he fucked me once again, he said he was going to kill me, that he was going end my life, and I was glad, Edward. I wanted him to kill me, to just stop hurting me all the time. And he wrapped his hands around my throat, and he started to squeeze, and I just laid there, and let him. But then the door to my room was busted open and cops came swarming in, and they stopped him. Stopped him from killing me, and I was angry, Edward. Angry because I didn't want to be Isabella anymore. I didn't want to be her, the weak, pathetic girl whose parents threw her away because she was burden to them."

Bella brought her hand up to her throat. "I can still feel his fingers wrapped around my throat, feel the pressure as he squeezed." She shifted her eyes up to mine. "When I walked out of that house, when I found myself free, all I wanted to was hide. So I walked away. I came to Vegas and I tried so hard to . . . not be Isabella Swan anymore, but I always be her, always be the little girl who was taken from her family, whose father watched everyday as she struggled to breathe and never told her who she was, who he was. I don't know how to handle any of this anymore," she cried.

"Then don't. Not tonight, at least. I'll take you home," I muttered, walking over to my bike.

"I, um, I don't want to go home," she whispered, and I looked over at her. "I, um, don't want to be tempted to drink, and I will drink if I'm there."

"Is that why you didn't come inside?" I asked, and she nodded. "Do you drink like that a lot?"

She shook her head. "I usually only have a couple shots when I feel the . . . panic or anxiety mounting, but nights like last night, I just . . . I just lose control, I guess."

"Okay. How about we go get some breakfast instead?" I suggested. "Make it an official date and everything."

"A date?" she whimpered, looking up at me. "You still want to be with me after what I did?"

"I do," I admitted. "But I think we need to slow down a little, kind of go back and do some shit that we skipped, like going on cheesy dates." I walked around my bike so that I was standing in front of her. Slowly, so I didn't scare her, I brought my hands up and cupped her face. "I'm in love with you, Bella, and that's not gonna change just because you fucked up."

Bella's eyes closed and her face was saturated in tears. I slid my hands to the back of her head and nestled her against my chest, letting her cry.

"How could I be so fucking stupid to think anything in my life was ever going to be normal?" she sobbed.

"You're not stupid, Bella," I murmured. "You just had a bad day."

"I've had a bad life," she whispered.

After a few more minutes of weeping, Bella managed to dry her tears so we climbed onto my bike and headed down to a pancake place a few blocks from my apartment. We settled into a corner booth and when our waitress came to take our order, we both ordered a short stack with a side of bacon, and two cups of coffee. Our waitress told us our food would be ready soon before she turned and waked back around the corner. I shifted in my seat and looked at Bella, who had her thumbnail in her mouth and her eyes locked on the table. I reached across the table and grabbed her hand, pulling her nail out of her mouth.

She looked over at me. "You should be at home sleeping, not wasting your time out with me."

"I want to be with you," I told her. "I don't think I could sleep right now, anyway. Too many thoughts in my head."

Bella nodded and shifted her eyes away from mine. "They lied to me. Everyone in my life lies to me." Then she looked at me. "Everyone but you. At least, I don't think you've lied to me."

"I haven't."

"Everyone lies, Edward," she said.

"Yeah, but I haven't lied to you." I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the table. "But I haven't told you the truth, either, I guess."

"What do you mean?" Bella asked.

"I, um, I try to be strong because I don't like people feeling sorry for me. I don't need pity, and it became easier to just . . . put a mask on and be the Edward that wasn't given away to be used and abused. I want to be the Edward who had a mom that loved him and a dad that didn't blame him for every bad thing that happened. But then I met you, and I found myself having to deal with the fact that my dad overdosed on drugs, that my mother blamed me for his death and then gave me to her dealer because it was easier to sell me than take the consequences of her actions."

"So, being with me brings up everything you went through?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Oh," she murmured, leaning back in the booth.

"I don't mean it like a bad thing," I said.

"No?"

I shook my head. "I need to deal with the fact that I'm damaged, that I'm never going to be normal."

"Guess I can see that," she replied. "I just . . . I don't understand. They said the old man never got over my disappearance, that he never stopped looking for me, but he . . . he knew where I was for years, yet he never told me that he was my father, that . . . that he knew who I was. Why? I just want to know why?"

"You need to ask him," I told her.

"I did," she said. "This afternoon."

"What he'd say?"

She shook her head. "That I hadn't been ready. Whatever that means. He started freaking out, so I left."

"Oh."

"He owns Sam's company, he's been watching me for years, trying to . . . I don't know, guide me? So why not tell me who he was? Why all the secrets?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

Our waitress came over and placed our food in front of us, asking if we wanted a refill on our coffee, which we both accepted. We ate in silence, and though it wasn't uncomfortable, it wasn't peaceful, either. I wanted things to go back to how they had been two days ago, back when Bella wasn't trying to fuck him.

Once we were finished, we slid out of the booth and headed over to the cash register. Our waitress rang up our bill. "Fifteen eighty-six."

"Okay," I said, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet, but before I could grab it, Bella slapped a black credit card on the counter.

When I cocked an eye brow at her, she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Don't ask."

"I was buying you breakfast," I told her.

"You suggested that we come get breakfast, not that you'd pay," she pointed out, and when I went to argue with her, she placed her finger on my lips. "Just let me. Please? It doesn't make up for last night, but I need to do something."

"Fine," I groused.

Bella smiled as she turned back to our waitress and held out the card. The woman took it and looked from the card to Bella with a look of skepticism, but she didn't say anything as she swiped it. Once the receipt was printed, she tore it off and handed it to Bella to sign, which she did quickly. Thanking our waitress again, Bella and I walked outside and over to my motorcycle.

"Well, I guess I should go home," Bella mumbled.

"Or, you could come to my place," I suggested, and when she looked at me. "No booze there."

"After last night, I don't know that we should have any more sleep overs, Edward," she fretted.

"I'll sleep on the couch," I told her shrugging my shoulders.

"I'm not going to kick you out of your bed," she exclaimed.

"Fine, then you can sleep on the couch," I argued. When she started to shake her head, I reached up and placed my hands on her cheeks. "I don't want you to be alone. Especially with a bottle of vodka within reach."

"You shouldn't have to be uncomfortable in your own apartment, Edward," she groused. "I crossed a line with you last night."

"You did," I admitted. "And I can't say that I'm not still scared that you'll do it again, or that I won't let you, but I love you, Bella, and that won't change just because you had a bitchy moment."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I can get a hotel room, or stay at Carlisle's."

I snorted.

"What?" she asked.

"Carlisle's? Really?" I asked, letting my hands drop to my side.

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"Look, I'm going to sound like a real asshole, and for that I'm sorry, but I don't like you sleeping in the same bed with him when you're my girl."

"I'm not," she argued.

"Esme told me last night, he spent the night in your bed, while she slept on your couch," I pointed out. "You told me that you and Carlisle have never been together like that, and I really hope you were telling the truth, but it's fucked up that you'd sleep in the same bed as him when you claim to love me."

"We didn't sleep together, not like that. Carlisle just . . . He's always been there, Edward, always. When I freak out, he's there to hold the pieces together."

"I'm supposed to be there to hold the pieces together," I quipped.

"But you weren't, were you?" she snipped, taking a step away from me. "You left, and he was there."

"You told me to leave," I snapped.

"And you said you'd never leave me," she muttered. "Guess you didn't really mean that, did you?"

And before I could stop her, Bella turned and walked away. While I knew I should have followed her, should have taken her back to my place where I could keep her safe from herself, I let walk away from me.

**Thank you for all the reviews. So, they still have some shit to work out, right? Things will be getting very complicated soon.**


	32. Chapter 32

BPOV

"Bella?" I looked toward the doors that led to the emergency room of University Medical Center, surprised to see Carlisle standing there. After bringing the old man here, I knew more about Carlisle's history, and why he'd started working at the free clinic so I wasn't expecting to see him here. Leaving Edward the way I had, though, I wasn't sure where to go. I couldn't go home, because if I did, I knew I'd lose myself in a bottle of vodka, and somehow, I found myself standing in front of the hospital, I just wasn't sure why.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, rushing over and nearly falling into the seat next to me.

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

"Then why are you here at six-thirty in the morning?" he asked.

"I don't know," I whispered. "I couldn't go back to my apartment, and Edward and I had another fight, or are still in the same fight. I'm not really sure."

Carlisle looked down at his watch. "Give me like five minutes, and then we can head out."

"Okay," I whimpered.

Sighing, Carlisle wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest, pressing his lips against the top of my head. "It's going to be all right, Bella. I promise."

"I hope so," I cried.

Five minutes later, Carlisle returned to the lobby. The two of us walked out of the hospital, heading across the street to a small diner that made Call's Diner look like a five-star restaurant. Once we were in a booth and we each ordered a cup of coffee, Carlisle shifted his attention to me. He looked tired and worn out, and I hated that instead of going back to Esme, he was wasting time sitting across from me.

"So," he murmured.

Tears flooded my eyes as I looked away. "Ever feel like everything in your life isn't real? Like you're still in Hell, and all of this is just an illusion?"

"Yeah," he said.

"I don't . . ." I turned back to Carlisle. "The old man, my father, he's known where I was for three years."

"Wow," he said, whistling under his breath.

"Yeah," I replied. "I don't . . . I don't understand. All I've heard since the old man had his stroke was how much my disappearance destroyed my family, how they never stopped looking for me, but the second they knew where I was, did they come for me? No! They left me to suffer on my own."

Carlisle picked up his cup and took a sip of his coffee.

"Say something!" I exclaimed.

"Like what?" he asked. "I don't know how to respond, Bella. It's fucked up."

"No shit," I scoffed, shifting in the booth so that I was sitting sideways with my knees bent up in front of me. "The old man, he owns Sam's company. He told Sam to give me a job when I was ready. It's like . . . he was there, but not really there. And I don't understand why. Why wouldn't he tell me who he was?"

"You need to ask him," Carlisle said.

"I did," I admitted. "After I left this morning, or yesterday morning I guess, I went to the hospital and asked him why. He said . . . he said I wasn't ready. What the fuck does that mean?"

"I don't know."

I sighed and looked over at him. "I don't . . . I don't know what to do, Carlisle. I thought I was doing okay. It wasn't easy, but I was okay. Now . . . now, everything is so fucked up!"

Carlisle nodded.

"Edward's mad at me," I murmured, dropping my focus onto the table. "Said it's fucked up that you were there last night instead of him."

"It is," Carlisle said, and I shifted my eyes to him. "Do you love him, Bella?"

"Yes."

"No, I mean, are you in love with him? Do you want to spend the rest of your life with him?"

"Yes," I said, immediately.

"Then why are you here with me?" he asked.

"Because . . . because . . ." I trailed off when I couldn't think of a single good reason.

Carlisle leaned forward and placed his arms on the table. "Look, I'm not going anywhere, Bella. You and me, we're always going to be best friends; that's not going to change. Bella, I want . . . I want to marry Esme."

My eyes widened.

"Like you, I thought I was doing okay. Sure, I had my days when . . . things got too intense, but I was dealing. I want Esme. She makes everything easier to handle. When she's holding me, I don't . . . I don't hear my father's voice in my head, telling me how weak and stupid and lazy I am. I don't hear him beating my mother, I don't see him standing above me with a gun pointed at me anymore." Carlisle brought his hand up to his face, dragging up and through his hair. "And I love you, Bella, I do, but you're not enough for me."

"Does she love you?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"I think so," he murmured. "She hasn't said so, but I . . . I think so."

I inhaled a sharp breath.

"That doesn't mean I don't need you," he pleaded.

"I know," I whispered. "It's just . . . everything is different. Everything. A few months ago, you sleeping in my bed wasn't a big deal, but now it is."

"But it's better this way," he said. "While it doesn't seem like it right now, Edward's been good for you."

"Until I attempted to rape him, you mean," I whimpered. "How will he ever forgive me for that?"

"It won't be easy, but he loves you. And you didn't try to rape him, Bella. He said no, and you accepted it. You just . . . you need to get out of your own head and start . . . I don't know . . . dealing?"

I laughed. "Dealing? I don't even know what I'm dealing with anymore. I was the throw away girl, but now, I'm the girl who was kidnapped, the girl who was abuse because some pervert was sexually attracted to me. And I have parents and a brother, and I just . . ." I slid my legs under the table and turned to him. "How do I go back and be their daughter when being around them has me freaking out?"

"I don't know," he scoffed. "My psych rotation didn't cover this shit."

I bit my lip and dragged my finger around the rim of my cup. "I'm happy that you have Esme, Car. She's a good person. I think, at least. Don't really know her."

"She's amazing," he murmured.

Tears flooded my eyes as I slid out of the booth and leaned over, kissing his cheek. "Don't let her go, Car."

"I won't," he said. "You going home?"

I shook my head. "I'm going to talk to Sam, find out what else he's been keeping from me, and then I might go back to the hospital and talk to the old man. And if I get the courage, I'll go talk to Edward."

"Why not talk to him first?" Carlisle asked.

"Because I need to get my ass together before I can even consider working things out with him."

Smiling, Carlisle slid out of the booth and placed his hands on my hips, sliding them around my back and nestling me against his chest. "You're going to be okay, Bell."

"You think so?" I mumbled. "Because I don't feel like it."

"You will, when you stop letting the fear cause you to do stupid shit."

I laughed and pushed him away. "Yeah, yeah; I know."

Before Carlisle could argue, I tossed a couple dollars onto the table to pay for our coffee and left him pouting. The sun was just starting to wake up, and as I walked toward Sam's company, I saw dozens of drunks pouring out of the casinos, drifting toward whatever diner was open, and there were few homeless people milling around, trying to find someone willing to give them a few bucks.

Nobody was the office when I got there, so I leaned against the door and slid to the ground, pulling my knees up in front of me. All I could think about was Edward, the look on his face as I walked away from him. Why was I such a bitch to him? Why couldn't I just let him love me without fucking it up? He was everything to me, everything I never thought I'd deserved, yet I'd assaulted him, tried to force him to what? Love me? To fuck me? I wasn't even ready for him to touch me like that.

"Bella?" I looked over and saw Sam standing about ten feet away from me.

"Hey," I murmured, scrambling to my feet.

"Surprised to see you here," he said, digging his keys out of his pocket and gesturing toward the door. I moved out of his way and watched as he unlocked it and pushed the door open. He stepped out of the way and gestured for me to go inside, and when I didn't move, he said, "If you're uncomfortable being alone with me, we can wait out here until Jake or Seth get here."

"No, it's okay," I lied, because truth be told, I was terrified about being alone with Sam. Blowing out a deep breath, I clenched my hands into fists and willed myself to walk into the building.

Sam reached over and turned on the lights before letting the door close behind him. I turned and looked at him. "Where's Emily?"

"She took the girls to the school for registration. They'll be here after lunch," he explained.

I nodded, automatically bringing my arms up and wrapping them around my torso.

"Can I get you some coffee?" he asked, gesturing toward the hallway that led to his office and the break room.

"No."

"Okay, well, I need a cup, so I'll be back in a minute."

I waited until Sam was gone before I blew out a harsh breath and dropped my arms to my side. Being alone was freaking me out, and not in a good way. I felt so uneasy.

"Dude, you're such an asshole," Seth snickered as he opened the front door and led Jake in. They stopped and looked at me. "Oh, hey, Bella."

"Hey," I whispered.

"How's it going?" he asked, quietly.

"Oh, you know," I muttered, waving a hand around.

"That good, huh?" he laughed, and I nodded.

"Sure you don't want a cup?" Sam asked, drawing all our attention to him as he walked out of the hallway. He paused and looked from me to his brothers. "Aren't you two supposed to be at a meeting?"

"We're on our way," Jake said, clearing his throat. "Just, um, just needed to grab the file."

"Don't let us hold you up."

For a moment, neither Jake nor Seth moved, but then Sam cleared his throat and Seth scrambled down the hallway to his office. I hated that they were so nervous around me, like they expected me to have a breakdown. Of course, seeing as I did have a breakdown the last time I stood here, I could understand their fears. Just didn't make it any easier to handle. I'd worked so hard to gain control of my life, to keep my fears locked away inside of myself, but now, now I was weak and stupid.

Seth came back a couple minutes later with a large, manila folder in his hands. He held it out to Jake, who took it and placed it inside his bag. "We shouldn't be more than a couple hours."

"Just be back after lunch," Sam muttered. "Team meeting."

Seth and Jake nodded before looking at me and then turning and walking out of the building. The moment the door was closed, Sam had his attention back on me. "So, um, are you okay?"

"No," I admitted. "I am . . . so far from being okay."

"Stupid question, I guess," he chuckled.

"I just . . ." I shook my head. "I don't understand. You knew what he was doing to me, and you just . . . you just left me there."

"Have a seat," he said, walking over and sitting in one of the chairs in front of Emily's desk. He waited until I was sitting before he placed his cup on her desk and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "When Charlie asked me to find you, I . . . I'll admit that I didn't think I would be able to. Your case was beyond cold, and girls like you who go missing are rarely found alive. But I was desperate for the money, and Charlie said he'd pay my expenses, and even if I didn't find you alive, he'd make it worth my wild. I had a wife, a baby, and two brothers who had gotten used to having a roof over their heads and food on the table.

"It took me three years and four months to find you, and when I did, when I realized just how much pain he'd inflicted on you, it took every ounce of my control not to kill him, Bella. I have two little girls, and I can't imagine Bridgett or Cassie going through what you did."

Tears filled my eyes. "But you left me alone," I whimpered. "You knew where my family was, and you didn't tell me. I walked out of the hospital with nothing but the clothes on my back. I lived on the streets, ate out of the trash while trying to find anyone who would hire me just long enough for me to get some money to get the fuck out of there, Sam. Do you have any idea of what I had to do?"

"No," he groaned. "And I'm sorry. I wanted to bring you back, to tell them, but Charlie said that he would handle it. And I thought the case was done, I could move on to my next client, actually be home with my family. Three months later, Charlie came back and offered me a lot of money to become a silent partner, and I was greedy enough to accept it. I wanted to be able to put my brothers through college, to put the girls through college. And all he asked was that I keep an eye on you, that I make sure you were okay. And I tried, Bella. Lord knows I tried."

"So you, Emily, and the girls started coming into the diner," I murmured.

Sam nodded. "By watching you there, I learned how to read you, how to tell if you were having a rough day, or if you were okay, and I figured between me and Charlie that you would be all right."

"All right?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "I'm far from being all right, Sam." I paused. "Did you know that he never told me who he was?" When he hesitated, I knew the answer. "I see."

"I asked him once, why he never told you. He said you weren't ready, that you needed time."

"That's bullshit," I muttered.

"Maybe," he replied. "Can I ask you something now?"

"Would it matter if I said no?"

He smiled. "Yes."

"Just ask," I groused.

"Are you going to quit?"

I inhaled a sharp breath. "I don't know. I can't trust you, Sam."

"You can trust me," he insisted, but I shook my head.

"You've practically been stalking me for years, and then I find out that my father hired you to do so? I mean, how am I supposed to just be okay with that?"

"I don't know," he said. "But I would never hurt you, Bella. Never."

I nodded, but when I started to speak, the door to the office opened and I looked over, surprised to see Jasper walk in.

He paused and looked from me to Sam. "Oh, um . . ."

Sam stood up and walked over to him, holding his hand out to him. "Hey, thanks for coming by, Jasper."

"Yeah," he mumbled, peeking over Sam's shoulder and looking at me. "Is this a bad time?"

"No," I said, sliding my feet off the edge of the chair and standing up. "I was just leaving."

"Bella," Sam started, shifting his body toward.

"I'm sorry, but I need some more time," I told him, rushing over to the door and pushing it open. I paused and looked back at him and Jasper. "Thank you for sitting down with me."

"Anytime," Sam said. "I mean that."

Nodding, I shifted my attention to Jasper before walking through the door and letting it close behind me. Now that I'd talked with, I just needed to speak to the old man and then Edward, neither of whom would be easy.

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	33. Chapter 33

Once again, I found myself standing outside of the hospital, trying to urge my legs to take me inside. There were so many questions resting on the tip of my tongue, so many things I needed to know, but I was terrified to ask. So, instead, I stood in the middle of the cement walkway like an idiot.

"Bella." I looked over my shoulder and saw Rose walking toward me.

"Oh, hey, Rose," I muttered.

"How's it going?" she asked, timidly.

"Oh, you know," I said with a wave of my hand. "How about for you? Found a new job yet?"

"Um, no," she murmured. "I'm still looking."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. "Where's Emmett?" Rose's face contorted into pain and misery. "You okay?"

"No," she admitted, shaking her head. "Em and I . . . Things didn't work out."

"Oh." I paused. "Did he hurt you?"

Rose gasped. "No! Emmett's a good guy, Bella. He would never, ever do anything to hurt me, or . . . well, anyone."

"Okay, okay." I put my hands up. "I was just asking."

Rose brought her hand up, covering her mouth as she started sobbing. I lifted my hand to put on her shoulder, but pulled it back, unsure if she'd be comfortable with someone touching her.

"I'm sorry," she wept. "I don't mean to be so needy, Bella."

"You're not," I said. "You want to talk about it?"

"I don't want to be a bother," she whimpered.

"You're not," I told her.

"Don't you have to go in?" she asked, tilting her head toward the hospital.

I bit my lip and looked back at the stone and glass building. "Eventually, but I can spare a few minutes for you."

"Can we sit?" she asked, gesturing to a stone bench off to the side.

"Sure," I said. The two of us went over and sat down. She looked around, almost as if she was trying to organize her thoughts. "Would it help if I started?"

She smiled. "Not really. My life is . . . very complicated."

"I understand a thing or two about complicated," I muttered, shifting my attention to the front of the hospital again.

"Emmett and I have a . . . difficult relationship. His father worked as my family's gardener, and when we were little, we were best friends. I'm an only child, and my parents were gone a lot, my nanny was old, so she let me play with Emmett. As we grew older, I found myself falling in love with him. He was my first . . . well, everything," she said, dreamily. "We were going to get married, and . . ." Trailing off, Rose brought her hand up to her lips. "But then, my father told me that he'd arranged for me to marry the son of one of his clients. My father had swindled him out of millions of dollars. But what he didn't know was that the man was . . . connected. He threatened my father, told him that he had a choice to make. He could arrange for me to marry his only son, or he'd be killed. My father opted for the less painful of the two. For him, at least.

"I resisted, of course. Told him that I was in love with Emmett, that we were going to get married and nothing he did would stop us." Rose frowned. "He said he didn't care, that he'd given me everything, and it was time that I repaid him. I tried to leave, but he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall. He slapped me and called me a selfish bitch. Ironic, isn't it? He gives me away so that he won't go to prison for swindling people out of their money, but I'm the selfish one for not wanting to marry a stranger?"

"Yeah," I murmured.

"But I still tried to leave, but he stopped me, said if I didn't marry Royce he would kill Emmett. And I knew my father would. He was a bastard. So I agreed. The look on Emmett's face when I told him that we were done, that I was marrying someone else . . . Bella, I will never get the look of devastation out of my head. Never.

"My engagement to Royce was announced the next week, and everyone was calling it the wedding of the year. My mother and Royce's mother insisted on a quick, but huge wedding. I didn't even meet Royce until the night before the wedding, and I knew immediately that I was making a mistake, but I didn't want my father to kill Emmett. He left town the night before I was married, and I didn't see him again until a few weeks ago."

"Rose, why did you come to Vegas?" I asked.

Tears sprinkled down her cheeks. "I wasn't a good wife, Bella. I wanted more from my life than being the woman on his arm. Royce was a horribly, violent man, and wasn't afraid to take what he wanted. He proved that on our wedding night." She shifted her eyes to me. "I didn't want to sleep with him, Bella. I didn't know him well enough to have sex with him, but he didn't care. He told me I was his whore, and he'd have me anytime he wanted. And he did," she cried.

"I told my mother what he'd done, thinking that she'd help me get away, but she just put her hand on my shoulder and said I had to learn to make my husband happy." Rose shook her head. "She was my mother, Bella, and she was sitting there telling me to take it, to let him rape me because that's what a good wife does. So I did. I let him fuck me like a whore, and when that didn't get him hard anymore, he let his friends come over and fuck me. I was nothing to him, Bella, nothing but a piece of property.

"A month ago, I saw Royce kill a girl. She was only sixteen, and had gotten lured to party by a guy she'd met online. That man was Royce. He and his friends gang-raped her before beating her to death. When they were done, they made me help hide her body, and then they beat me and told me that when they were done with me, I was next. I was . . . I am scared, Bella.

"I called Emmett as soon as I could, and like he always had, he came to my rescue. Helped me break free. We went to the police and told them everything. Royce and his friends were arrested after they found her body, and were charged with first degree murder and a dozen other charges. My parents were found in his office two days later. My father killed my mother and then himself. His note said that I'd betrayed him, and that he hoped I'd rot in hell.

"Emmett convinced me to leave Tennessee, convinced me to come to Vegas with him," she murmured. "Said it was a fresh start for me, someplace safe."

"It can be," I told her, causing her to look at me. "And in some ways it's not."

"Yeah." She frowned. "I never stopped loving Emmett. Not ever, but . . . I thought when I came here with him, that we'd go back to being the people we used to be, but we're not. He's not the same Emmett that I fell in love with. Life has made him hard and bitter."

"Maybe that's true," I said, quietly. "But maybe you're not the same Rose you were, either."

"No, I'm not," she agreed, placing her hands on her stomach. "I'm pregnant, Bella. Just over six weeks."

"Oh, fuck," I gasped.

"Hmm, yeah, that's what I said," she murmured.

"Does Emmett know?" I asked.

Rose shook her head. "He would insist on raising the baby together, and I don't know that I'm even keeping it."

"You're considering an abortion?"

She nodded. "Just the thought of that bastard's child inside of me has me reeling. How can I raise it?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

Rose sighed. "Emmett's everything to me, but I can't be his burden like that. Besides, he doesn't need me anymore. He has someone else."

"Who?" I asked.

"Alice."

I frowned. "I didn't realize they were together like that."

"He swears they aren't, but . . . She's always there, Bella. Always. And I tried to be understanding, but I guess I'm selfish enough to want him only with me."

"I don't think that makes you selfish," I told her.

"You don't?" she asked.

I shook my head. "If Edward were with someone else when he claimed to be mine, I wouldn't understand." As the words tumbled out of my mouth, I mentally smacked myself. Like I would feel jealous and angry if Edward were sleeping with someone else, even if it was literally sleeping, was exactly how Edward much have felt with me sleeping in the same bed with Carlisle.

"I'm such an idiot," I mumbled.

"You are?" Rose asked, and I looked up at her.

"I've lived the last few years just trying to survive. I minded my own business, took care of myself, and didn't really give a fuck about anyone else. Except for Carlisle. He's the only friend I had, and I thought I was okay with that, but then I met Edward, and he . . ." I shook my head as tears filled my eyes. "He saw the real me, and he didn't run. He never pushed me for more, but he didn't run, either. But now, I've fucked everything up because I was stupid and angry and scared. Instead of listening to what he was saying, really listening, I pushed him away. And I don't know if I can fix things between us, but I'm not giving up on him."

"You're not?" she asked.

"No," I said with more confidence than I felt. "I love him too much to let him go."

"I wish I had your confidence," she responded.

I scoffed and stood up. "Don't wish to be anything like me, Rose. I'm fucked up. For what it's worth, though, Emmett doesn't look at Alice the way he does you. Make sure you're really ready to live without him again before you throw him away. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who loves easily."

"He's not," she said. "Kind of what scares me the most."

"I know. I'm here, if you need to talk again. You have my number, right?"

Rose nodded. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, I guess. Don't know that I did anything."

"Trust me you did." Rose stood up and walked past me, but instead of going into the hospital, she walked away from the large, stone and glass building.

Blowing out a heavy breath, I turned back to the building. "It's now or never, Bella," I muttered to myself.

As I walked through the building, I could feel my heart racing, my legs felt heavy, and I struggled to keep my breathing calm and even. I knew I needed to talk to the old man, but I was terrified about what he'd tell me. If he told me anything. 'I wasn't ready' wasn't much information, and I needed more.

When I got to the old man's room, I wasn't surprised to see Marcus sitting next to his bed. They were talking softly so I couldn't really hear what they were saying, but they were smiling, and every few words, one of them would laugh. It was clear that they had an easy relationship.

"Bella." I turned around and saw Renee standing a few feet behind me with a smile on her face.

"Oh, um, hey, Renee . . . I mean, Mom . . . I mean," I stammered.

"Renee's fine," she said, taking a step toward me. Though, I wasn't sure why, I found myself moving away from her. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head. "Been a long couple days."

"Yeah, for me, too," she replied, and when I cocked an eyebrow, she added, "Charlie disappeared for six years, Bella. I had no idea where he was, and when he left, I had to take over running his company. There are those on the board who didn't like that I was left in charge, or how I've ran the place in Charlie's absence. And now that he's been found, they're expecting me to step down and let him take back over."

"And you don't want to?" I asked.

She smiled. "Six years is a long time. I've grown accustomed to being able to make my own decisions."

"Oh," I said, looking back at the old man.

"Don't get me wrong," she stated, and I turned to her. "Charlie's a wonderful man. Or he was before he left, at least. He just . . . got so lost after you were taken, so wrapped up in finding you, that he couldn't handle the guilt, so he left. I don't blame him."

"Why not?" I asked. "He left you alone for six years. With a child to raise, too. Why are you not furious with him?"

Renee opened her mouth several times before saying, "A part of me is angry with him, Bella. I needed him. I was . . . I'd lost you, too, and I needed him to hold me and let me cry, and he did at first, but slowly he pulled away, became obsessed with finding you."

"You make that sound like a bad thing?" Though I tried, when her eyes widened, I realized that I hadn't been able to keep the hurt out of my voice.

"I didn't mean it like that," she insisted. "I didn't sleep for four days when you were first taken. Kept thinking I'd miss something. The police kept telling us that a ransom call would be made, that we had to be ready. They were convinced that your kidnapping was related to Charlie's business, but I wasn't convinced. As the days went by, as we found ourselves waiting and waiting, I had to start living again, Bella. Marcus was a little boy, he needed someone to take care of him. He would cry all the time, beg for you to come home, and I kept telling him that you would, that you'd be back. Then the days turned into weeks, and then months shifted into years, and everyone told us that you were dead, that he'd killed you. Little girls who disappear like that don't usually make it back alive. At least that's what all the experts told us."

Renee brought her hand up to her chest. "I never gave up hope, Bella, but life wasn't going to stop just because you were gone. Bills had to be paid, Marcus needed us, and the world moved on. But Charlie wasn't able to. One day, he got out of bed, got packed a suitcase, said he was going on a business trip, and never returned. And suddenly, I was a single parent."

"Do you still love him?" I asked.

She nodded. "Charlie's the love of my life. I'm still angry at him for leaving, and we have a lot to work through, but he's worth fighting for."

I bit my lip and looked back at the old man. Whatever Marcus said had him laughing hard. "Has he told you much about his time here in Vegas?"

"Yes."

I turned back to her. "So you know that he hired a man named Sam Uley to find me six years ago? Or that he's known where I was for the last three years?"

With the way Renee eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock, I knew that she hadn't know quite everything the old man had been up to since he disappeared. Her eyes closed for a split second before she turned and walked into the old man's room. He turned from Marcus and started to smile, but stopped when she slapped him.

"You bastard!" she screeched, and when she went to hit him again, Marcus grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"What the hell, Mom?" he yelled.

"You knew! You knew where she was and didn't tell me?" Renee screamed.

Marcus released his hold on Renee's arm and turned to the old man. "Dad?"

I stood in the doorway, watching as they glared at him. Charlie, however, was staring at me. "She . . . she wasn't ready," he stammered.

"What?" Marcus asked. "What does that even mean?"

Charlie huffed and used his right arm to push himself up in the bed. "She needed more . . ." He shook his head, almost like he was trying to shake the words out of his mouth, ". . . time. She . . ." He groaned and pushed his head into his pillow. "She wasn't alone. I . . . I took care of her."

"Bullshit," I muttered, causing them to look back at me. "I was alone and scared. I'd escaped Hell, and I had nothing. And you knew where I was, but didn't come for me," I cried.

The old man shook his head, causing a tear to fall down his face. "I did. I did come for you."

"You didn't!" I wept.

"I did," he insisted. "When Sam told me . . . wh . . . where you were, I flew to Arizona," he stammered. "By the time I got there, you had . . . already left the hospital, but the police told me that they'd been watching you. I . . . found you in an alley behind this dumpy, little Italian place. You . . . you were . . . scared and . . . I saw the . . . bruises. I was about . . . about to come to you . . . wh . . . when the manager came out and offered you some food." The old man paused and took another deep breath. "He tried to . . . touch your arm to nudge you inside, and you started screaming and begging him not to hurt you."

I shifted my eyes away from his as Renee and Marcus looked at me. "You were there?"

"Yes," he said. "After you were taken, I tried to learn as much as I could about . . . human behavior. I thought, maybe it would help . . . find . . . finding you. I saw you falling apart, saw you a . . . afraid of everything around you, and I knew that you weren't ready to be thrust back into the family.

"So you watched me?" I asked.

He nodded. "I arranged for you to get the job in A . . . Arizona, then for you to travel to Vegas. Once you were here, I made sure y . . . you had a place to live, a job, and every . . . everything else you needed."

"You arranged all of that for me?" I asked, and again, he nodded. "So not only did you lie to me, to Renee and Marcus, but you've basically stalked me for the last three years?"

"It wasn't like that," he argued.

"Wasn't it?"

"No!" he insisted. "I wanted to be there, to help, but you weren't ready."

"That wasn't your decision to make, Charlie," Renee said. "I've tried to be understanding, but first you left, and now you've been keeping my daughter from me? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I tried to protect her," he insisted.

"But you didn't, did you? She was stolen away from us, abused for years, and when you found her, you denied her?" Renee turned and walked toward the doorway.

"Renee!" Charlie called.

She stopped and looked back at him. "She's my daughter, and you kept her from me. I don't know how I will ever forgive you."

And without another word, Renee turned and walked out the room. Marcus ran after her, and I turned back to the old man, who had a look of shame on his face.

"You were never alone, Bella," he muttered, lobbing his head away from me. "Never. I made sure of it."

"You should have come to me, old man. I thought you and Renee didn't love me, that you'd sent me away to live with him," I whimpered. "And he did horrible things to me. I needed you."

"I know," he cried.

"I cared about you," I whispered, causing him to look at me. "When I thought you were just a cranky old man who came into the diner, I cared about you. Took the time to make sure you had special attention."

"I never stopped loving you, Bella."

"Old man," I mumbled.

"Charlie," he insisted. "I'm Charlie. Or Dad."

"No, you're not," I told him. "You're the old man who bitched because his coffee was cold, and his food wasn't prepared the way he wanted. That's who I know you as now."

"But I'm not him. I'm your dad," he said, almost pleading with me.

"My dad wouldn't have played with my life like this." I reached over and placed my hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen down his face. "I don't know how to trust you anymore, old man. I just don't know."

Pulling my hand back, I turned and walked away from him, trying to ignore the sound of his sobbing behind me. I wanted — more than anything — to believe that he wasn't a bad guy, that he really was trying to help, but the facts were clear. He'd manipulated every aspect of my life.

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	34. Chapter 34

EPOV

For the second day in a row, I found myself unable to sleep, unable to do anything but think about Bella. I loved her. Loved her more than I thought I could love anything, but did she love me back? Really love me back, the way she claimed she did? If so, how could she sleep with him? Even if it was really just sleeping. And it was just sleeping . . . wasn't it?

"Stop thinking about her, asshole," I muttered, placing my hands on the oak bar and taking a deep breath.

"Talking to yourself again? They say that's the first sign of insanity."

I looked toward the door to the back, finding Emmett leaning against the doorframe. "Probably is, but it's the best conversation I've had all day." He smiled. Well, his lips turned upward, but the goofy Emmett I knew wasn't there. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here for what? Another three hours?"

He shrugged his shoulders as he walked around the bar, reached over and grabbed a beer. "I was bored."

I nodded, and picked up my clipboard. "I've heard that boredom is going around lately. Contagious and there's no cure."

Emmett scoffed. "No shit."

"Where's Esme? You didn't leave her alone, did you?" I asked.

"No," he replied with a snort. "Left her with the doc. They were going to have lunch." He rolled his eyes. "Dude's a little too perfect, if you know what I mean."

"I do," I grumbled.

As he pried the lid off his beer and took a hearty swig, I went back to my inventory. It wasn't until he sighed that I looked up, noting the way he had his back to the bar and was overlooking the rest of the place.

"Something on your mind, Em?"

"Too much," he replied. "You know, I . . . I thought I was happy here. I have a decent job. It's not the best, but it ain't too shabby, either. I had you and Ally-Cat."

"You still have me and Alice, Em," I said.

He turned and faced me. Yeah, I know, man. It's just . . ." He paused for a moment. "I never had much, you know? My mom died when I was little, and my dad, man, he worked his ass off for me, but we didn't have a lot. Crappy house, clothes that barely fit, barely enough to eat. But we were happy. He was a great dad, always put me first. I never felt like I went without, even though I know I did. Maybe it's because Rose always made me feel like I wasn't trash."

"You've known her for a long time?"

He nodded. "My whole life. She's . . . she was my best friend, the love of my life. I wanted to marry her, to have babies with her. But it just . . . couldn't work out, I guess. She dumped me and married someone else. I left town and never looked back. Not until she called, anyway. And then suddenly, I found myself rushing to her like five years hadn't kept us apart. She told me that he husband had beaten her, that she needed me, and I couldn't get there fast enough. Fuck, I sound so fucking pathetic."

"Nah, you sound like a man in love with his woman," I said, shaking my head. Emmett tilted his head back, looking at me. "Why'd she leave, Em?"

He clenched his jaw together before picking up his nearly empty beer bottle, and draining the last of it. "I don't know. We left here that night, and stopped to get some pie, because you know Alice can't go without her pie," he scoffed. "When we got back to my place, Alice curled herself up on the couch like she always does, and Rose and I went into my bedroom. There was this look on her face, this . . . I don't know . . . just this look, and I kept asking her if she was okay, what was wrong, but she kept saying nothing. Every fucking time, but I still asked. We went to bed, but I couldn't sleep because I knew something was wrong, so I asked her again what was wrong, and, I don't know, man, she just blew up at me. Started ranting and raving about how I loved Alice more than her, how I'd abandoned her. I tried to tell her that Alice and I are only friends. I mean, you know that Alice is my best friend, but that's all we are, right?"

"I do," I admitted. "But I also know how hard it is to see the person you love the most seeking comfort in the arms of someone else, someone they're just supposed to be friends with. It hurts, Em."

"Bella done that to you?" he asked.

I nodded.

"That sucks," he muttered.

"It does," I agreed. "Look, I'm not judging you. You and Alice, you're tight, and if Rose can't accept that she's one of your people, then maybe you and Rose shouldn't be together. But think real serious about whether or not you're willing to let her go again, because while I know you love Alice, I've never seen you look at her the way you do Rose, Em."

"She's the love of my life, E," Emmett whimpered, his lip quivering. "But she doesn't love me back."

"Yes, she does." At the sound of Bella's voice, Emmett and I both turned and saw her standing in the door leading to the back of the bar. "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's okay," I said, quickly. I shifted my eyes to Emmett. "Can you give us a minute?"

He nodded, and slid off his stool, tossing his empty beer bottle in the trash. "I'll just make myself busy." Then, shifting his eyes to Bella, he added, "You really think she loves me?"

Bella smiled. "I do."

Emmett pressed his lips together, but didn't say anything else as he turned and walked over to his little cubby next to the door. I turned my attention back to Bella, noticing that she was still wearing the same clothes she'd had on when she walked away from me the night before. Did that mean she hadn't slept? Or maybe she'd found herself back in bed with someone else.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not daring to voice the questions inside my head.

"I, um . . ." Bella trailed off and shook her head, shifting so that she was leaning against the frame. "I don't know how to be the woman you need, Edward. Or the one you deserve, I guess is more accurate."

"You already are that woman," I insisted, taking a step toward her, but stopped when she put her hands up. "What? Now you're scared of me?"

"No," she said, quickly. "Just been a long day, and I'm tried, and all I keep looking at those bottles of vodka behind you, and . . ." She huffed out a hefty breath. "I really want a drink."

"Oh."

"But I don't need one," she said. "I mean . . . God, I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"Not really." I placed the clipboard on the bar and grabbed two bottles of water from the cooler. "How about one of these instead, and we go out back?"

Bella bit her lip as she nodded. Once we were out in the alley, we settled on the back stoop and I gave her one of the bottles of water. She twisted the cap off and took a sip. For a few minutes, neither of us said anything, we just sat there in awkward silence.

"It smells back here," she groused, looking over at me. "Smells like shit. Literally, like someone shit back here."

I laughed. "Someone probably did."

She crinkled her nose and shuddered.

"Why are you here, Bella?" I asked.

She frowned. "To apologize. I didn't get why you were upset about Carlisle, but I do now."

"You do?"

She nodded. "Carlisle's always been my go-to person, the only person I had when the feelings got too intense, or whatever. But suddenly, I have you and he has Esme, and everything in my life is all fucked up, and I know I'm to blame for all of it, but —"

"You are not to blame for all of it," I interrupted.

"Aren't I?" she asked. "I'm the one who lost control of myself, tried to . . . seduce you, or whatever, and then lashed out at you? Isn't that my fault?"

"I guess, but I know that you're scared, Bella, because I am, too. You've had a ton of shit to deal with lately. I just want to be the person you turn to when you're scared, not a bottle of booze and definitely not Carlisle."

"I want you to be that person, too," she said, quietly. Bella looked away from me and brought her hand up to her chest. "I don't even recognize my life anymore."

"Something happen today?"

Bella smiled and looked back at me. "I talked to Sam about the job, about how the old man was behind him finding me, behind the job offer, behind everything. I don't know how I am supposed to work there knowing that I haven't earned it."

"Just because you haven't earned it, doesn't mean you don't deserve it," I told her. "And, okay, so maybe the old man pulled some strings, but it's still a good job. Better than the diner, anyway."

"There's not much that wouldn't be better than that shit box," Bella scoffed.

I laughed. "True."

"It's more than just the job with Sam, though, Edward. It's everything. My apartment, my job at the diner, everything in my life that's happened since the police arrested Phil Dwyer." She paused. "For all I know, he's paid you to be in my life."

"Wow," I grumbled, standing up and taking a few steps away from her. "Is that what you think? That I'm some whore your father hired for you?"

"No," she said, standing up. "I didn't mean it like that."

"That's how it sounded to me," I argued.

"I'm sorry, that's not what I mean, I swear," she said, begging me to listen. "I just . . . God, I don't know what to believe anymore. Everything I thought I knew was wrong," she cried. "Everything, and I don't . . . I can't . . ." She screamed and wrapped her arms around herself. "Three years, Edward. Three years of being alone, of being afraid, and he knew. He always knew."

I wasn't sure what to say, how to make it better for her, so instead, I just stood there, watching as she cried.

"He says I wasn't ready, that I needed more time, but that's bullshit. He didn't want me anymore, not until I wasn't pathetic," she mumbled to herself. Pausing, she looked over at me. "I tried to kill myself."

"What?" I asked, stepping toward her, but once again, I stopped when she put her hands up. "When?"

"Just after I arrived in Vegas," she admitted. "I was new to the city, new to the diner, and I wasn't really handling it. I'd been up all night because of nightmares, and Embry had called out sick, so his dad was there, and he'd been all up my ass because I'd broken a tray of glasses, and we were swamped, and I just . . ." Bella blew out a heavy breath. "I couldn't handle it. When my shift was over, I went back to my apartment and started drinking. One shot led to another and another and before I knew it I was standing on the roof, right on the edge of the building. I could see lights coming off the strip, hear people laughing and being happy, and I hated them, Edward. Hated them for being so fucking happy with their lives," she cried. "I wanted to jump. I wanted to end it, but I couldn't make my feet leave that edge.

"Then I heard someone behind me, and when I looked back, I found Carlisle standing there. I'd seen him a couple times, but never talked to him. His eyes were so big, and he said, 'So, having a bad day?' And I laughed. I laughed and said, 'Something like that.' He just nodded and asked to buy me dinner. Dinner, Edward? I was standing on the roof of the building, ready to jump to my death, and he was asking to buy me a pizza," she wept. "I told him to fuck off, to leave me to die. He said he couldn't do that, that if I didn't let him buy me dinner, then he wouldn't be able to live himself. And then, he walked over to me and held out his hand. I don't . . . I don't know why I took it," she murmured. "We went back to his apartment and he ordered us a pizza and made some coffee. I expected him to ask me why I was ready to leap to my death, or at least take advantage of me, but he didn't. He was just . . . there when I needed someone to be there."

"And I'm glad he was there for you, Bella," I said. "I am, but he's not the only one now."

"I know that, Edward, I do, and I trust you with everything. I've told you things that I haven't even told him. But that doesn't make him any less important to me."

"I'm not asking you to give him up," I said, walking over to her. I placed my hands on her either side of her face, wiping her tears away. "I get needing him, because I need people, too. Em, Alice, even Esme, but you're my future. One day, I want to marry you."

Bella's eyes flew open. "M . . . ma . . . marry?"

"Yeah," I said, slowly. "Too much?"

"A little," she admitted, smiling. "I'm still getting used to the fact that you've seen my boobs."

I chuckled under my breath. "Me, too."

"Will you ever be able to forgive me for being such a bitch?" she asked.

"I already have. Just . . . just don't shut me out because you're afraid I can't handle you. I love you more than anything, Bella."

"I love you, too," she whispered.


	35. Chapter 35

BPOV

"Are you sure?" Edward asked.

I scoffed. "No."

Nodding, Edward leaned against the back of the couch and propped his feet up on his coffee table, which wasn't more than a piece of wood propped up on two milk crates. I sat on the far end of his couch, with my knees pulled up in front of me after just telling him that I was going to keep my job with Sam, a decision I knew he wasn't hundred percent pleased with.

"Why?" he asked, quietly.

"Because it was important to the old man," I admitted. "And even though I'm still pissed and hurt that he knew where I was, who I was, and never said anything, I feel like . . . I don't know . . . I owe myself this chance to be more than just a waitress."

Edward's forehead furrowed, but he didn't say anything. I knew my decision to continue working for Sam wasn't something he'd understand, and I couldn't blame him. All he had seen was me going to work and coming home to get drunk, attempt to seduce him, and then lash out at him. Though I hadn't had a drink in almost a week, I couldn't keep living my life afraid of what was going to happen next. If ever wanted to be the woman Edward deserved to marry, then I had to get my shit together.

"I won't stand in your way," he said, shifting his eyes to me. "If you really want to keep your job there, I won't say no, or whatever. I just . . . I'm going to be completely honest, Bella. The thought of you working there, with Sam, is . . . I don't want you to . . ." Edward huffed as he trailed off.

"Lose control?" I asked.

He nodded. "I'm not strong enough to go through that again, Bella. I wanted you so much, and to say no that night was hard. If presented with the chance again, I don't know that I'd be able to refuse you, and we're not ready for sex."

"No, we're not," I agreed, tucking my arms in between my body and my legs. "And I can't promise that I'll never fuck up again, either. I'm weak, Edward. Every day I struggle not to have a drink."

"Which is why you've been staying here," he said, turning toward me.

"But I can't just live here, Edward," I argued. "It's not fair for you to give up your bed, and we're not ready to share one again."

He exhaled. "But I like having you here," he grumbled.

I smiled. "I like being here, but I need to prove to myself that I can do this job, that I'm more than just a charity case for the father who didn't want me anymore."

"If he didn't want you, he wouldn't have been watching out for you," he mumbled, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Edward had done everything he could convince me that the old man had done what he felt was right, though even he admitted that it was fucked up. "Are you going in today?"

"Yeah, figured I needed to jump in with both feet."

"Will you come by the bar when you get off?" he asked.

Biting my lip, I nodded. "For a few minutes at least. Then I'm going to go back to my place for the night."

Edward sighed.

"You can come over after you close if you want, but I'll understand if you don't," I told him shifting on the couch and crawling so that I was sitting next to him. I placed my hand on top of his, which was resting on his thigh. "It's time for me to grow up, Edward. Please understand."

"I do," he said, looking at me. "Just be safe, okay? If something happens, come to me instead of the bottle."

"I will," I promised. "I love you."

He smiled. "I love you, too."

After a quick shower, I kissed Edward goodbye, climbed off the cough, slipped my shoes on, and left. Though I was terrified about going back to Sam's, about facing Emily, Jake, and Seth, I knew an opportunity like this wasn't going to come along every day. Especially for someone like me.

When I walked into the building, I wasn't surprised to see Sam and Emily sitting in the front room, Emily behind her desk, and her husband seated in one of the chairs on the other side. Both of them turned toward me, uncertainly on their faces. Sam slowly stood up, like he wasn't sure how I was going to react. Honestly, neither did I.

"Hey, Bella," Sam said, quietly.

"Hey," I murmured, letting the door close behind me. "So, um, I'm hoping the job is still mine?"

He smiled. "Of course it is. I just wasn't sure you'd still want it."

"Me, either," I admitted. "I'm not happy about you spying on me, Sam, or about the old man lying to me, but I really don't want to live on the streets again, so . . ."

Sam nodded and looked over at Emily. "Well, I'll get you get her started on her paperwork, then."

"Okay," Emily mumbled, shifting her attention to me. "Are you ready? Do you need a coffee or bottle of water, or anything?"

"No," I all but scoffed. The last time I'd gone into the break room, I'd had a panic attack. I wasn't looking forward to that room again.

Sam cleared his throat before he turned and headed toward his office, stopping in the entryway to the hall. He turned and looked back at me. "Glad you came back, Bella. I hope you'll stay."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I simply nodded. Once he was in his office, I turned back to Emily, who looked uncomfortable with me being there. "Did you know? About me, I mean?"

"No," she admitted. "Sam didn't tell me who you were until after Charlie had his stroke, and you were fired. I knew he was keeping his eye on Charlie's daughter, but when we started going to the diner, I had no clue that you were the one he'd been watching."

"I want to believe you, Emily," I fretted.

"But you don't trust me," she said.

"I don't trust anybody," I told her, except Edward and Carlisle I added mentally.

Emily nodded. "Can't say I blame you. If I'd been through half the shit you have, I would have . . . Well, I don't know what I would have done."

"Yeah," I murmured, bringing my arms up and wrapping them around my torso.

"Well, I guess we should get started on your paperwork," she mumbled, sitting down and pulling open the bottom drawer of her desk. She placed a thick stack of papers on top, and shifted her attention to me. "Are you just going to stand there?"

"No," I said, feebly before walking over and sitting in one of the chairs across from her. "I, um, not sure what to do."

"It's okay, I'll walk you through all of it." Emily stood up and walked around the desk, sitting in the chair next to me. "Let's start with your W-2."

For the next couple of hours, Emily and I worked on filling out my employment paperwork. She talked about deductions, and dependents, and tax codes, and I found myself sitting there feeling like the dumbest person on the planet. I didn't understand any of it, and when we moved on the stack of papers for the different types of insurances — Medical, dental, life, accidental death — I thought my head was going to explode. I didn't understand a damn thing about premiums, medical deductibles, co-payments, or how to pick a primary care physician, or who was a good dentist, or how much life insurance I needed, who to put down as my beneficiary. By the time we were done, my head was throbbing.

"You look like you're going to puke," Emily commented.

"Kind of feeling like it," I told her and pushed the stack of papers away.

"Felt the same way when Sam and I started this place. I barely knew how to turn on a computer, and suddenly, I was expected to manage an office," she said, laughing. "And I love Sam, but he's useless."

"Gee, that's reassuring," I muttered.

Emily sighed. "If I didn't think you were more than capable of handling the responsibilities this job entails, I never would have agreed with bringing you in here."

I huffed and leaned back in my chair. "So you say, and Sam says, but you don't know me, Emily. Not really."

"You're right, I don't," she admitted with a nod. "I know the woman who encouraged Bridget to read, told Cassie she was adorable and beautiful and special. The woman who my girls beg me to buy a Christmas present for every year, but I know wouldn't be able to handle having a stranger give her things because she would feel she owes them something. So, instead, I buy a gift and tell them it's for you, and then take it to one of the churches and ask them to find someone who needs it."

"You really do that?" I asked.

"I do," she said, crossing her knees and placing her hands on her lap. "You're important to my girls, Bella, but they don't understand about monsters. Sam and I have worked very hard to keep them shielded from the evils of the world."

"They're lucky," I groused. "Some of us learned the hard way."

"Yeah, I know." She frowned. "Me, too."

I cocked an eyebrow.

"What? You thought I wasn't a messed up freak, too?" she scoffed, shaking her head and standing up. Walking around her desk, she pulled open the bottom drawer and pulled out a red folder, holding it out to me. "Take it."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Just take it."

Biting my lip, I leaned forward and took the folder from her, placing it on my lap and opening it. There were dozens of photographs of a little girl with bruises around her eyes, on her jaw, handprints around her neck. As well as pictures of arms and legs, all of which were black and blue. Behind the photos was a newspaper article with the headline: "Nine Year Old Girl Survives Brutal Beating."

"I grew up in Maine. My parents split I was a year old. Mom decided she didn't want to be my mom anymore, so she left. My dad did the best he could, but he had to work a lot, and when he was working, he left me next door with our neighbor," she said, causing me to look up at her. "She was a nice lady, a bit . . . too absorbed in the television, but nice, I guess. Her grandson, however, was an asshole. He . . . he was sadistic, got great pleasure from making me cry. Started with taking my toys and hiding them, then moved on to making fun of me." Pausing, she released a deep breath. "On my ninth birthday, my dad got called into work. I was so mad at him because he'd promised that he'd take me to get my ears pierced. Before he left, I told him that I hated him. Of course I didn't mean it, but I was just so angry.

"Anyway, Ms. Josephine settled in front of the television, so I went outside to pout. I don't know how long I'd been out there when Colin came out of the house. He looked over at me, and just . . . smirked. God, I hated that look. He started making fun of me, calling me a baby because I was upset. I told him to fuck off and walked off the front porch, heading into the back yard. Well, he followed me. He grabbed me and slammed me against the house, said I was bitch. Said that he was going to teach me some respect. I tried to scream for help, but he covered my mouth and dragged me out of the backyard, and into the woods behind his house. I kicked him, fought him, but he was stronger than me."

Emily shifted her attention to me. "He took me to this little shack and tied me to a wooden post. And then he hit me. Over and over and over. Called me a bitch, and a pain in the ass. Said he was going to make sure I never made it out of there alive." She shook her head. "For a long time, I wished that he really had killed me. Would have made my life a lot easier."

"Do you still feel that way?" I asked.

"Sometimes," she admitted. "I love my girls. And I love Sam. And even though they annoy me, I love Jake and Seth, too, but there are times when I feel like everyone is judging me again. When that boy beat me, when he left me tied to a post to die, my soul was broken. My father blamed himself, said he'd let me down when I needed him the most. I didn't tell him he was wrong, Bella. I was angry that I'd been hurt, that some arrogant boy thought it was okay to put his hands on me. Two weeks after I was found, my father killed himself."

I gasped.

She brought her hand up to her mouth, running her fingers along her bottom lip. "He just felt too guilty for leaving me, I guess. I'll never know, of course. He didn't leave a note, nothing. I was nine years old and alone. Children's protective services were able to track down my mother in L.A. She didn't want me, though. She'd moved on with her life. Gotten remarried, had a couple more kids, and I wasn't going to be a part of her life. Because I didn't have any more family, I went into foster care. I was lucky, I guess. I had great foster parents. When I was eleven, they adopted me. They loved me, helped me recover from my injuries, made sure I had counseling. I got very good at hiding my feelings, Bella. When I graduated from high school, they paid for me to come to school here in Vegas. They understood that I needed to get away from Maine, away from the ghosts that haunted me. I met Sam when I was a sophomore, and the rest is, as they say, history."

"What happened to Colin?" I asked.

A dark expression crept over her face. "Because he was only fourteen, he was sentenced to a juvenile facility until his eighteen birthday. The day he was released, he attacked another little girl. She was only seven. She didn't survive. He was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. He was killed a year later."

"Oh."

"Yeah," she murmured, walking over and sitting back in the chair next to me. "I'm not comparing what I went through with what you went through, Bella, because they're not the same, but you're not the only person to suffer at the hands of someone else."

"I know," I grumbled. "I just . . . Emily, I don't know who to trust anymore. Sam says I can trust him, but then I find out that he's been watching me for years. Basically, stalking me. Then I find out that the old man knew who I was, where I was, but never reached out to me because, in his mind, I wasn't ready. How am I supposed to take that? He's my father, yet he didn't want me in his life. Not really."

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I can tell you that Sam feels horrible for lying to you, Bella."

"Sure he does," I muttered.

"He does!" Emily insisted.

"Let's not kid ourselves here, Emily. I've never been anything more than a payday for him."

"Is that what you think?" Sam asked, and as I turned to look at him, the front door opened and Jake, Seth, Jasper, Garrett, and two other men walked inside followed by Marcus. He stopped in the door way, his eyes widening. Based on the look on his face, it was clear he didn't know that Sam had offered me job here, either.


	36. Chapter 36

"What are you doing here?" Marcus asked, taking a step toward me. Out of pure instinct, I moved away. The brother I had known all those years ago had turned into someone I didn't know, someone I couldn't trust. Frowning, he took a step backward, and I felt horrible that I couldn't trust him. "Sorry."

"I work here," I mumbled, shifting my attention to Sam.

"Oh," Marcus replied, clearly confused.

"I wasn't expecting you to be back this soon," Sam said, his eyes flittering from me to Jake and Seth, to Marcus, Garrett, and then to the two men I didn't know. "Bella, this is James and Tyler, two of our team members."

"It's nice to meet you," Tyler said, while James merely nodded his head toward me.

I couldn't seem to return the compliment, the words died in my throat. There were too many men in the room, too many people that could hurt me, and I found myself struggling to keep from clawing at my arms or screaming.

Sam seemed to sense that I was uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and pulled everyone's attention to him. "Go on to the conference room. I'll be right there."

Thought I could tell they were resistant, Jake, Sam, Garrett, James, and Tyler agreed and disappeared down the hallway, leaving only Marcus, Jasper, Sam, and Emily to stare at me.

"Should I leave?" Jasper mumbled, looking from me, to Marcus, and then to Sam.

"No, no," Sam said, placing his hand on Jasper's back, who immediately shrugged it off. Sam looked over at Emily. "Can you get him started on his paperwork? You can take him into my office."

"Sure," Emily told him, and gestured for Jasper to follow her to Sam's office.

I could tell that Jasper wasn't sure if he should leave me alone, one of the reasons, he and I got along like we did: we both knew about monsters and pain, a lesson we'd learned it the hard way. Once they were inside his office, Sam turned and angled his body toward me.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I shook my head, because I wasn't okay. I felt lost and confused, and I was tired of trying to be strong, tired of pretending that I had my shit together. Maybe that's what the old man meant about me not being ready. Maybe he could see that I'd been lying to myself about how I felt. Or maybe he just didn't want to be my father anymore. After all, he had three years to tell me who he was, hadn't he?

"Bella," Sam said.

I released a breath as I turned back toward him. "I'm okay."

Sam gave me a look before he turned to Marcus. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"Garrett thought it might be a good idea if I came with him," Marcus said, while staring at me. "Is that a problem?"

"No," Sam said, immediately. Though, I could tell it was.

"We've been worried," Marcus said, taking another step toward me. And once again, I moved away. "I'm not going to hurt you, Bella."

"I know," I lied.

"Mom's been frantic. Said she's worried that you'll disappear again," he added.

I wasn't sure how to respond, so instead I just stood there.

Marcus sighed. "Will you please talk to me?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," I exclaimed. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm . . . I can't . . ." Bringing my hand up to my chest, I struggled to keep my breathing even. "What do you want from me, Marcus? Hmm? What do you want?"

"I want my sister back," he said, almost pleadingly.

But before I could say anything else, Jake walked into the room. "Sam, dude, time is money."

"Yeah, Jake, I'll be right there," Sam told him, looking over his shoulder and giving his brother a look. Jake shifted his eyes to me before he turned and walked back into the conference room. "Sorry, I've got to get in there."

Sam turned and walked down the hallway, leaving Marcus and I alone. My brother turned his attention back to me, though he didn't say anything for several minutes. "You know what missed the most after you were taken?" he asked.

I shook my head.

He smiled. "Sunday mornings. Do you remember?"

"No," I lied, because I did.

Marcus's smile faded, and I immediately felt guilty. "Suppose that's understandable. Mom and Dad always slept in on Sundays, so you'd get the cereal, milk, and bowls, and we'd spread blankets out on the living room floor and eat breakfast while we watched cartoons. You always let me have the toy from the cereal, too."

"Because you'd cry if I didn't," I mumbled.

"You do remember!" he laughed.

I nodded. "One of the few good memories I have from before."

"Mine, too," Marcus admitted.

"Is . . . Is the old man okay?" I asked, quietly.

"Dad's . . . he's okay, I guess. They're moving him to a rehab center tomorrow. They're hoping to help him get full use of the left side of his body."

"That's good," I murmured.

"You don't have to call him old man, you know."

"Excuse me?" I asked, confused.

"He's Dad, or I guess you could call him Charlie. But not old man."

"It's habit. He's been the old man in booth six for so long," I explained.

"He came in everyday? That's what you said, right?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Then how could you not know who he was?" Marcus accused.

"What?"

"How could you not know who he was? He sat there every day and you didn't know?"

I sighed. "I don't know. The father I remembered was young and healthy. He smiled all the time, laughed, loved, but the old man . . . he was mean and cranky, hardened," I explained.

"Suppose I can understand that," he told me. "I am sorry, you know?"

"For what?" I asked.

"For how I treated you when you showed up at the hospital. For not believing you."

"Oh," I murmured. "Um, that's okay."

"No, it's not," he groused. "After Dad left, I was so angry, Bella. I was eleven years old, and my sister, who was my hero, had vanished, and then my dad left. I . . ." Marcus paused, struggling to control his emotions. "I thought it was my fault."

"What?" I gasped.

"You and I fought the morning you were taken, and Dad and I had argued the he left. Seems like I'm the cause of all of it, doesn't it?"

"No," I scoffed. "You were a kid, Marcus."

"So?" he snarled.

"So you couldn't have done anything to stop what happened. The old man has to own up to his own mistakes. Nothing that has happened to our family is your fault."

"It's not yours, either," Marcus argued.

Shaking my head, I disagreed. "You have no idea what I've done."

"No, I don't," he agreed. "Because you left me, too." And before I could argue with him, Marcus said, "I can't do this right now."

Marcus pushed the door open and left.

—SMTS—

By the end of the day, my head was throbbing and all I wanted was to go back to my apartment and lose myself in bottle of Vodka. But of course, I couldn't do that, not if I wanted to keep Edward, and I wanted him more than I'd wanted anything in my life.

"Well, you made it through the day," Sam said, causing me to look over at him from behind Emily's desk. She'd spent the afternoon trying to teach me how to use the computer, and it hadn't been going well. I felt like an idiot, which didn't help cull the temptation to lose myself in a bottle.

"It's a miracle," I quipped.

Sam laughed. "You're doing great, Bella."

"If you say so," I grumbled, pushing away from the desk and picking up my bag. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Have a good night," he said, moving from in front of the door as I left.

Knowing that Edward would worry if I didn't at least stop by the bar, so I headed that way. As I approached the front door, I saw Rose standing on the corner at the end of the block. She would turn and start walking toward the bar, but then stop and turn back.

"Rose," I called, pulling her attention toward me. She brought her hand up to her stomach. "I'm surprised to see you here. Are you okay?"

"I . . . No, no, I'm not," she admitted, tearfully. "I need to talk to him, but I can't get the courage to actually go inside. He'll never forgive me, Bella. Not for leaving him again."

"Sure he will," I told her, slowly reaching out and grabbing her hand. "He loves you."

"Not anymore," she whispered.

"Come on, we'll go in together. I'm kind of scared, too."

"You are?" Rose asked, and I nodded. "Why?"

I blew out a heavy breath. "Let's just say that alcohol and I have a love/hate relationship right now."

"Oh, I see." Rose shifted her eyes back to the front door of the bar. "I should just leave Vegas for good."

"Is that really what you want?" I asked. "To leave Emmett again?"

"No," she admitted. "But how can I ask him to love me after I threw him away time and again?"

"Because when you needed him, he was there," I said. "None of us deserve the love we get, Rose. I don't, but Edward still loves me. And Emmett still loves you."

"I hope you're right," she whimpered.

The two of us slowly walked to the front door to the bar. Though I could tell Rose was nervous, I knew that Emmett needed to see her, needed her. I opened the front door and the two of us stepped inside. Emmett was leaning against the bar, talking to Edward, who stopped in mid-conversation and smiled at me. My cheeks warmed instantly. He nudged Emmett, gesturing for him to look over at us. When he saw Rose standing next to me, he immediately rushed over to her, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her with so much passion, I was embarrassed to stand there and watch them.

I walked over to the bar and slide onto one of the stools, turning my attention to Edward. "Hey."

"Hey," he echoed, grinning widely. "How was work?"

"It was . . ." I shook my head. "It was work. I don't know. Still not convinced I should be there."

"Me, either." Edward reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of water, setting it in front of me. "Might help quench the urge to drink," he said under his breath.

"Thanks," I mumbled, but took the bottle and opened it, taking a sip as I looked over my shoulder at Rose and Emmett, who were whispering furiously to one another. I turned back to Edward. "You're not very busy tonight."

"Thank God," he groaned. "Ben called in, so we're shorthanded."

"Oh." I toyed with the label on my water bottle, unable to keep my attention off the bottles of vodka lined up on the shelf behind the bar. My mouth watered at the thought of a drink.

"Hey," Edward said, grabbing my hand and pulling my attention away from the temptation screaming at me.

But before I could speak, the lights in the bar flashed on and off, causing everyone to look toward the door where Rose and Emmett stood, him with his arm wrapped around her waist and a look of euphoria on his face.

"Rosie and I are getting married!" Emmett yelled. "I'm gonna be a dad!"

Rose turned and buried her face in Emmett's chest, and I could tell that she was weeping. Looking back at Edward, I wondered what it would be like to marry him.

**Thank you for all the reviews.**


	37. Chapter 37

**EPOV**

For a solid ten seconds, the bar was completely quiet as everyone stood and watched Emmett and Rose. They were getting married. They were having a baby. It wasn't until the sound of a tray of glasses fell to the ground that the tension inside the room was broken, and everyone shifted their attention from the happy couple to Alice, who looked like she'd just been sucker punched.

"Ally-Cat," Emmett said, taking a step toward her, but Alice put her hands up and shook her head before running through the back. A moment later, I heard the backdoor slam shut. "Fuck."

"Wow," Bella murmured, turning and looking at me. "Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Should someone go after her?" Bella asked.

"Probably, but I can't leave the bar, and I don't think she wants Emmett near her right now."

Bella nodded and pulled a cell phone from her pocket. "Know where she'll go?"

"Tattoo parlor? Or maybe Sunset Park? I don't know."

Bella turned her attention to her phone and she typed out a quick message before closing it and shoving it back into her pocket.

"Who'd you text?" I asked, trying not to sound jealous.

She smiled. "Jasper. Something tells me, he's exactly who she needs right now."

I agreed, but before I could reply, Emmett and Rose approached the bar. "Hey, congrats, man!"

"Yeah, thanks," he murmured. "Think Alice is okay?"

I shifted my eyes to Rose, who looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. I'm sure hearing that you're having a baby is hard on her. You know, after losing her daughter and everything."

Emmett nodded, but didn't say anything as he tightened his arm around Rose.

I looked over at Bella, who was staring at the bottles of vodka again. Leaning forward, I placed my hand on her chin, turning her face toward me. "Do you want one?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But no." Bella slid off the stool. "I think I'd better leave. There's way too much temptation here."

"Can I still come by after we close?" I asked, coyly.

Bella smiled. "Of course. Maybe I'll cook for you."

"Oh, baby, you know just what to say to guarantee that I'll be there," I laughed.

Bella turned to Rose and Emmett. "Congratulations. Glad everything worked out."

"We still have a lot to talk about, but," Emmett looked down at Rose, who was smiling, "she's my life, Ninja-girl, and I'm not letting her go. Not ever."

"Good." Bella looked back at me before turning and walking out of the bar, letting the door close behind her.

Emmett got Rose settled at the bar before turning and heading back to the door. I grabbed Rose a bottle of water and placed it in front of her, causing her to look from her new fiancée to me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I told her. "This is going to come off sounding much meaner than I intend, so please forgive me, but don't leave him again." Rose opened her mouth to protest, but I held my hand up. "I'm sure you had valid reasons for leaving, but Emmett—he's not the kind of guy who falls in and out of love, as I'm sure you know. It took a lot for him bring you here, and a lot for him to pick you over Alice."

"Me over Alice?" Rose asked, sounding shocked.

I nodded. "Emmett and Alice, they're close. Closer than close. I understand jealously," I told her, thinking about how I felt when I'd heard about Bella and Carlisle sharing a bed. "But for a long time, Em, Alice, and I were all each other had. Now, things are . . . different. There's Bella and you and Jasper, Carlisle, and Esme. I know it scares the fuck out of me. Alice isn't a bad person; she's just not used to having to compete for Emmett's attention."

Rose sighed. "I'm not asking her to compete with me, Edward. But I spent too much time trapped in a horrible marriage with a man who had no problem flaunting his whores in front of me. Now, I'm not calling Alice a whore. I like her. I think she and I could be friends, but I won't settle for being second best. Not again."

"And you won't," I told her, picking up a towel and flipping it onto my shoulder. "Just give her a chance, okay? Alice is one of those people who loves for a lifetime."

"You mean like Bella?" Rose asked.

"I hope so," I admitted.

"You've give me some unsolicited advice, Edward, so now it's my turn." Rose shifted on her stool. "You told me not to leave Emmett. Well, I'm telling you not to leave Bella. I don't know what that girl's been through, but there's a darkness in her eyes that kind of scares me. But she took a chance on me and gave me a job when, and I know this as fact, Mr. Call told her I was worthless. She stood up for me, told him to give me a chance. And even though that job didn't work out for either of us, I consider Bella to be a friend."

Rose paused and looked over her shoulder at Emmett for a moment before turning back toward me. "I was going to have an abortion. The baby isn't Emmett's, and I . . . Well, like I said, I spent a long time being someone's second choice, and I didn't want any part of him." She shook her head. "Bella told me to be sure I was ready to live without Emmett before I just gave up on him. I let Emmett go once because I was forced to, and I almost gave him up again because I was scared that I was too damaged for him. Don't let her go, Edward. She needs you, and . . . I think you need her, too."

"I do," I admitted. "I'm in love with her, Rose. And it scares me, because love isn't an emotion I've ever felt, from anybody."

"Yeah, me, too." And once more, Rose looked over her shoulder at Emmett, who winked at her and smiled. "Like I said, you gave me advice, and there's mine to you."

—SMTS—

By the time I made it over to Bella's apartment, it was after three in the morning. Emmett and Rose had left as soon as we locked the doors, leaving just me and Esme to close the place done. Since Carlisle had been working a double, I gave her a ride to the clinic, where she promised that she'd stay until he got off at seven. I didn't like leaving her alone, but knew that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He loved her.

Bella's door was open when I arrived at her apartment, which automatically had me on edge. The last time I stumbled upon her open apartment, she was drunk. Had she given into temptation? Slowly, I stepped inside and placed my helmet and keys on the floor. When I walked into the living room, however, I found Bella perched up on her stool, one of my T-shirts on and her hair had been pulled up into a messy bun.

She had a paintbrush tucked up over her ear, one in her mouth, and another in her right hand, while her left hand was covered in different colors of paint: red, blue, orange. She was beautiful, but it was the look on her face that hit me that hardest. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed, and it was clear that she was lost in her own world, her own nirvana.

I envied her; the peace surrounding her. It had been weeks—no months—since I found myself so lost in my music that everything around me disappear, and for that short amount of time, I was just Edward. Not the boy who had been abused and thrown away, but the man who'd survived.

"Are you going to keep staring at me?" Bella asked, looking over her shoulder at me with a coy smile on her lips. "It's kind of distracting."

"Sorry," I murmured. "It's good. Your painting, I mean. It . . . it looks good."

"It's . . ." Bella shook her head as she placed the paintbrush in her hand in the Mason jar and stood up. "I don't know what it is." She placed her hands on her hips. "Are you hungry? I didn't have much, but managed to put together a couple homemade chicken pot pies."

"Sounds great," I told her, gesturing back to her front door. "Do you want me to leave it open?"

"Oh, no, I didn't realize I'd left it open," she mumbled as she turned and walked toward the kitchen. "Just needed to get inside quickly."

I closed the door and then followed her into the kitchen. "Why?"

"Huh?" she asked, looking back at me before placing the small cookie sheet with two pot pies in the oven.

"Why were you in a rush to get inside?" I asked, leaning against the counter next to her.

Bella sighed and looked over at me. "When I left the bar, I . . . I don't know . . . I guess I felt a little overwhelmed, and . . . there are like a dozen places to buy vodka between the bar and my apartment." Bella blew out a heavy breath. "I wanted to stop, Edward. I wanted to stop so bad, but I didn't. I just tried to get back here as fast as I could."

"But you didn't," I said.

"But I, God, did I want to," she groaned. "I just . . . I just tried to lose myself in my painting." Bella smiled. "Guess it worked, because the next thing I remember was feeling you staring at me."

"I couldn't help myself; your beautiful," I whispered, feeling embarrassed.

Bella inhaled a sharp breath. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to hearing you call me beautiful."

"You are, though." I turned toward her, placing my hand on her cheek. "I look at you, and . . . I never want to lose you, Bella."

"You won't," she murmured. "I can't . . . I don't know how to breathe with you're not around me, Edward."

"Me, either," I admitted. "I love you, Bella."

She smiled. "I love you, too."

But before she could kiss me, or I could kiss her, the timer on the oven chimed, alerting us that our dinner was ready. Bella laughed softly before she grabbed a pair of oven mitts and placed the cookie sheet on top. She slide each one on a plate, grabbed a couple forks from the dishpan, and gestured for me to follow her into the kitchen. As we settled on the sofa, her on one end and me on the other, I found myself so enthralled with her. She was amazingly strong.

"This smells so good," I moaned, taking a huge whiff.

"It's one of the few recipes I remember from . . . before I was . . . taken or whatever," Bella told me. "My mother would make these at least once a week because the old man loved them."

"Have you talked to her?" I asked. "Since the other day, I mean."

Bella took a deep breath. "No. I, um, I don't know what to say to her. I've spent years thinking they gave me away, sent me to live in Hell with . . . _him_. I just . . ." She frowned. "I can't be that little girl they remember. I'm not seven, and there are things they'll never understand about me, things I've done, things that were done to me."

"Maybe they don't want you to be that little girl," I suggested. "Maybe, I don't know, maybe they just want to know who you are now."

"I don't even know who I am," she scoffed. "I know I need to talk to them, to really sit down and talk with them — all of them — but I'm scared."

"Your mom, the old man, your brother—I'd give anything to have a family that wanted me," I confessed, feeling silly for getting emotional. "My mom and dad made sure I knew how much they hated me, how I wasn't worth shit. And I know it's not easy, baby, I do, but you're not alone, anymore. You've got me."

"You'd go with me?" she asked, batting her lashes at me.

"I'd do anything for you," I vowed.

Bella's lips quivered as she nodded and placed her plate on the coffee table, and then pulled her knees up to her chest. "Would you stay? You can have my bed, and I'll sleep here, but I just . . . Will you stay?"

I nodded. "For as long as you want me."

**Thank you for all the reviews. I am so sorry for not updating in a few days, but my daughter, who is a type one diabetic, was rushed to the ER Friday in full DKA. Her blood glucose was over 600, her potassium was high, and she was dehydrated. She spent two days in the PICU, and we've spent the last two days just trying to get caught up on life. Thankfully, she's fine now, but she was very close to slipping into a coma or even dying. **


	38. Chapter 38

**BPOV**

"Fuck," Edward spat, slamming the phone back onto the base. I turned my attention from my sketch pad, finding him leaning against the bar with both hands.

"Still no word from her?" I asked.

He shifted his eyes to mine and shook his head. "Three days and nothing. Nothing new from Jasper?"

"No," I told him, understanding that he was worried about Alice. After hearing that Rose and Emmett were having a baby, Alice had disappeared. All we had was a text from Jasper saying he'd found her, but he refused to tell anyone where she was. I understood; Alice had lost her child, and here were two people practically rubbing it in her face.

"Just wish she'd call," Edward murmured, grabbing the phone and shoving it back under the bar. He then turned back to me and smiled. "Are you ready to go?"

I bit my lip and looked back at the door. "No."

"Bella," he groaned, walking over and standing across from me.

"I'm still going," I told him. "I just don't want to."

"Yes, you do," he scoffed.

"Okay, I do, but . . ." I shook my head and looked over at the vodka. God, how I longed for a drink. The only reason we'd stopped in at the bar was because Edward had had a delivery scheduled for eleven, and he was hoping to get a hold of Alice. It was hard being around so much alcohol, but I had to keep my wits about me if I wanted to get through the afternoon. Though I was scared, Edward and I were having lunch with Renee and Marcus.

"But?" Edward prompted, placing his hand under my chin and turning my attention back to him.

"Sorry," I whispered. I hated how much I wanted a drink. I never thought I had a problem before, but after I practically forced myself on Edward, I knew I used alcohol as a crutch to hide my problems.

"It's okay," he said.

"No, it's not," I groused. "How do I know that I'm not making a mistake by seeing them again?"

"You don't," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. He climbed over the bar and placed his hands on my lips, leaning down so that his lips were pressed against the top of my head. "I'm not going to force you to go."

"I know." Turning in his arms, I shifted my attention up to his and placed my hands on his hips. "But I need to. I've lived in this . . . dark place for too long. It's time that I grow up and, I don't know, start dealing with my past. And maybe, somehow, I'll have a future with them."

"Maybe," Edward whispered. "But no matter what, you have a future with me."

I smiled. "I hope so."

"Don't hope. Just believe."

"I'm trying," I admitted. "I'm really trying."

—SMTS—

Half an hour later, Edward and I were seated at a private table at Garcia's, though I'd considered leaving more than a dozen times. Edward had his arm on the back of my chair, but his other hand was on his knee, his fingers clenched around the dark denim of his jeans. I knew he was terrified about being there. I felt guilty for putting him in this position, for not considering how hard it would be for him. He didn't know Renee or Marcus any more than I did. What if they weren't the good guys?

"You can go—" But the words died out in my throat when I heard Renee squeal from across the restaurant. Looking over, I tried to stop shaking. "Oh, my God, Edward, what am I doing here?"

"Calm down," he murmured as we stood up to greet my mother and brother.

"Bella!" Renee gushed, rushing around the table and wrapping her arms around me before I could react.

"No, no, no, no," I stammered, placing my hands on her shoulders and pushing her away. I took three steps backward. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she murmured.

"I don't like sudden movement, or touching, or . . ." I blew out a deep breath before looking up at her. She looked terrified, her eyes were glistening with tears. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," she whispered with a sniffle. "I didn't think. Should . . . should we sit?"

I nodded and grabbed my chair, pulling it back from the table. Once Renee and Marcus, who seemed to refuse to look at me, were seated, I slide into my chair, followed by Edward, who placed his hand back where he'd had it.

"So, I've never been here before," Renee said with a smile. "What do you recommend, Bella?"

"I, um, I've never actually eaten here, either," I admitted. "This is just the only place that I could think of meeting that didn't have mice or cockroaches."

"Oh, well, thank you for that." Renee laughed as our server—a young woman with short brown hair—stopped at our table.

"Hi, I'm Jess. Can I grab you a drink while you look over the menu?" the perky girl asked.

"Oh, yes, please." Renee pressed her lips together and hummed. "I'll take an iced tea. Lots of ice, one wedge of lemon."

Jess looked at Marcus, who said, "Coke. No ice."

"Okay," she purred, before turning to Edward. "And for you, sir?"

"Water," he muttered.

And with a nod, Jess turned to me. "Miss?"

"Um," I paused, thinking about how much cash I had on me. I still had another ten days before I would get a check from Sam, and I didn't have much cash left. "I'll take water, too."

"I'll have those right out," Jess said before walking away.

She came back a few minutes later with our drinks. While Renee and Marcus both ordered plates that were filled with enchiladas, rice, beans, and a taco, Edward and I both ordered cheeseburgers. After she left, an awkward silence settled around the table.

"So, Edward," Renee said, ending the quiet. "Where are you from?"

"Chicago," he said, tensing.

"Wow, you're a long way from home. What brought you to the city?" Renee asked.

Edward shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Um . . . I . . . um, just needed something new, I guess. Something . . . something different?"

"And did you find your something different here?" Renee asked before lifting her glass to her lips and taking a sip of her tea.

"Took a few years, but I did," he told her. "I found Bella."

Renee smiled and looked from him to me. "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

"A couple months," I replied.

"And you've been in the city for how long?"

"A little over two years," I murmured. "Are you still in Forks? Or do you live here now?"

"Um, well, I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "Technically, I live in Forks. Never could seem to leave."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I hoped that you'd come back," Renee whimpered. "I was afraid, I guess."

"Of what?"

"Of not being there when you came home." Renee wiped a tear off her cheek. "Why didn't you come home? After you were . . . freed?"

"Freed," I mumbled. "Um, because Forks wasn't my home, I guess. I'd been sent away, given to a monster. Or at least, that's what I thought. And, um, I was angry, and ashamed, and . . ." I shook my head and looked away from her. "I just wanted to disappear and Vegas seemed like a good place to do just that."

"How could you believe that we'd send you away?" Renee pleaded, reaching across the table for my hand, but I pulled it back. "Did you really think we'd stopped loving you? That we didn't want you anymore?"

I nodded. "I was in the way."

"You could never be in the way," Renee gasped.

"But I was," I argued. "I was messy, and too focused on my focused on my art. I needed direction, and _he_ . . ." I brought my hand up to my chest. "_He_ said I was too expensive, that you couldn't continue paying for my training. But that _he_ could . . . give me what I needed, help me focus," I cried.

"Oh, sweetheart," Renee breathed.

"Don't call me that!" I almost screamed, slamming my hand on the table. Renee and Marcus flinched backward.

"Calm down," Edward whispered and placed his hand on top of mine.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled, but I don't like that name. _He_ used to call me that . . ." I opened my eyes. "Just, please, don't call me that."

"Okay," Renee quickly responded. "I, um, I don't know how to convince you that you were never in the way for us, Bella. You're my daughter, my little girl."

"Was," I muttered. "I was your daughter; I was your little girl. I'm not her, anymore."

"Maybe not," she admitted. "But you're still mine. And I would never have let you go away, never have let that man take you away from us."

Tears blinded me as I tried desperately to keep them from falling. "But you never found me. I was locked away inside hell, and you weren't there to save me. And I know that's not fair, because you didn't know where he'd taken me, but I was angry. So angry. I still am. And scared. All the time."

"You don't think we're scared?" Marcus asked, drawing everyone's attention to him. "I was four years old, and suddenly you were gone. I wanted my sister, Bella; my hero, but you weren't there. You were angry. Okay, I get that, because I was angry, too. And scared and lost." Marcus dragged his hand over his face, brushing away his tears. "I grew up at four years old. I couldn't cry because it made Mom cry. And Dad stopped living. All he worked on was finding you. I was nothing to him."

"That's not true," Renee groused.

"Yes, it is, Mom," Marcus snarled. "He couldn't come to my baseball games because he got a lead on Isabella. No fishing trips, or cub scouts for me because Isabella was spotted in New York, Florida, Italy, London." Pausing, Marcus lifted his coke and took a drink. "And when I needed him the most, he left. Thirteen years old, and I'd lost my sister and my father. So, yeah, I'm angry, too, Bella."

"Gee, and you hid it so well," I quipped.

"Sorry if I'm not in the mood to coddle you," he rebutted.

"I'm not asking to be coddled," I argued. "But if you expect me to feel sorry for you because the old man wasn't the father you wanted, then you can fuck off. You know what I got when I was thirteen?" When neither he nor Renee responded, I leaned forward and pulled the sleeve of my T-shirt up, showing them the scar in my forearm. "My work wasn't bringing in enough money, so he took a knife and held me down while he cut me. Oh, or how about the broken leg when I was ten, or the cracked ribs when I was eleven. You don't even want to know what I did to deserve those. Still want to compare who's had a shittier life? I can assure you I will win."

"I never meant to suggest that I had it worse than you," he mumbled, looking ashamed.

"Yeah? Could have fooled me," I grumbled, pulling my sleeve down and leaning back in my chair.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said again. "But this isn't easy for us, either."

"Never said it was."

"I wasn't a good mom," Renee said, drawing our attention to her. "I worked too much. Wasn't there when I should have been. I've regretted being late every day, Bella. Every single day. But I never gave up hope that one day, you'd come back to me." She leaned forward and extended her hand toward me. Slowly, I placed mine in hers. "And you did. Years too late, and with a darkness in your eyes that even I can't deny, but you're here."

"I want to be here. I do, but I don't know how to not be afraid that you're going to hurt me. Trust isn't something I give freely," I told her.

Renee nodded and looked at Edward. "You trust him."

Though it wasn't a question, I found myself nodding. "He loves me in spite of my faults."

"And you think we don't? Or that we can't love the Bella sitting across from us?" Renee asked.

"I don't know," I confessed.

"Then, I guess we'll have to prove ourselves, won't we?" Renee smiled and released my hand, leaning back in her seat.

Jess carried our food over to us on a large, brown tray. Once she had placed our plates in front of us, she refilled our drinks and left us alone. While we ate in near silence, I thought about what Renee had said. Could we start over? Forget about the last fifteen years and begin again? I wasn't convinced.

Once everyone had eaten their meals, Jess cleared our table and left us the check. Before I could dig my cash out of my pocket, Renee whipped out her credit card and handed it Jess. They lived in a world where you just pull out a credit card to pay for your food, where I lived in a world of having to make a package of ramen noodles last three days. But then again, they'd lost me, lived in a world where bad guys won. Phil Dwyer had victimized them, too. Maybe not in the ways he did me, but he'd robbed them of someone they apparently loved. Perhaps I was too busy finding a reason for them not to love me, to see the reasons why they did.

"I need to add a slice of cheesecake to go, please," she told Jess.

"Yes, ma'am," the woman replied before walking off.

Renee smiled and turned to me. "Charlie loves cheesecake. Thought he might like a piece."

"How is he?" I asked.

"Getting stronger every day," she said. "He misses you, though. Asks about you."

"Sure he does," I muttered.

"He does," Marcus added. "Every day. You should go see him."

"Probably just misses someone to complain about how cold his coffee is," I quipped.

Renee frowned. "I'm not saying that he was right, Bella, for not telling you who he was, for not telling us where you were, but Charlie thought he was protecting you."

"But what if I didn't need protecting anymore?" I whimpered. "What if I just needed my father to take me into his arms and say, it's okay, I've got you now?"

"Maybe he tried," she suggested. "Maybe you just didn't see it."

Though I chose not to argue with her, I didn't have her same faith in the old man.

**Thank you for all the reviews. **


	39. Chapter 39

**EPOV**

After lunch with Bella, her mother, and brother, I left her at her apartment, knowing that the last place she needed to be was in the bar surrounded by bottles of vodka. Lunch had been taxing on her, and I worried about leaving her alone, but I had to work.

I was crouched behind the bar, counting the bottles of tequila when I heard the backdoor to the bar open. Tensing for a moment, I stood up and placed my clipboard on the bar top. A second later, Alice walked through the back, looking horrible. Where normally, she wore her long hair down, and had brightly colored streaks woven through out it. But now, her hair looked tangled and she'd attempted to pull it up in a bun, but several strands were hanging down around her face, and she wasn't wearing any make-up.

But even more than her hair and lack of make-up were the clothes she was wearing. Normally, Alice liked tight, flashy clothes, but now, she was wearing a pair of men's sweat pants that were way too big and a T-shirt that had been knotted on the side.

"Hey," she whispered, folding her arms in front of her.

"Where have you been?" I asked. "I've been calling nonstop."

"I know, and I'm sorry," she said. "Had a lot to think about."

"Are you okay?"

Alice shook her head. "No. No, Edward, I'm not okay. Far from it, actually."

"Guess that was a stupid question," I mumbled, leaning against the bar.

"It's okay. You care about me," she stated.

"I do." I paused. "And so does Emmett. You know that, don't you?"

Alice nodded. "But things are different now. He has . . . he has a family. A real family. He doesn't need me, anymore."

"That's not true," I argued.

"Yes, it is," she replied. "And this is how it's supposed to be, isn't it? Marriage and . . . and babies. Isn't that what we're supposed to want out of life?"

"I guess. Hadn't really thought that much about it," I lied, because to be honest, all I had been thinking about lately was marrying Bella. I wanted her to be my wife, the mother of my children, but could we ever be that normal?

"You really should work on your lying, Eddie," Alice taunted, walking around the bar and sliding onto one of the stools. "I see the way you look at Bella. You love her."

"I do," I admitted. "She makes breathing, but is that wrong?"

"No," Alice said. "Jasper does that for me."

"Do you love him?"

"I never stopped. Even when I wanted to hate him because of who his father is, because I was left alone and pregnant, I never stopped loving him." Alice placed her elbow on the bar, and leaned her chin against the palm of her hand. "But I'll never be the kind of woman he deserves."

"And what kind of woman is that?" I asked, learning toward her.

"The kind you marry," she whispered. "I can't have any more children, Edward. My body is broken."

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"Me, too," she whimpered. "I would have been a good mom. I would have protected her, kept her from living the same hell I did."

Slowly, I reached over and took hold of her hand. "I know you would."

Alice pulled my hand up and pressed it against her cheek. "She was perfect. This tiny person who could have cured cancer, or been the first woman president. She was supposed to be my chance for a better life, a happy life. Why, Edward? Why did God take her from me?"

"Oh, honey, I don't know," I told her. "Why did God, if there is a God, let bad shit happen to any of us? My parents chose drugs over me, chose everything over me. Where was God when they were beating me because I was in the way of their habit?"

"God doesn't care about losers like us, Edward," Alice scoffed. "Me, you, Jasper, Bella, Emmett, Rose, Esme, and Carlisle, and who know how many more, we're not God's people. He gave up on us a long time ago."

"That's comforting," I quipped, pulling my hand back and placing it on the bar.

"It's the truth, isn't it?" she countered. "My mother was a whore. She sold her body for clothes and jewelry, which is fine. Let her be a whore, but she let those assholes touch me, rape me. Again and again. Why? What did I do to deserve to be used and abused?" Alice cried.

"Not a damn thing."

Spinning on my heel, I saw Emmett standing in the doorway toward the back room. He was leaning against the frame, clearly having heard more of our conversation than we'd realized. Through our four year friendship, the three of us had never confessed our sins to each other, not needing to. The pain, the hurt, was there, easy enough for us to see without needing the details. But now, in this moment, we were laying it out in the open.

Emmett shook his head. "You were a child, Ally-Cat. A goddamn baby, practically. She should have been protecting you, keeping you safe. But she didn't. Her. All of this is because your mother was whore." He pushed away from the doorjamb and walked around the bar, sliding onto the stool next to Alice, placing his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to face him. "When I left Tennessee and came here, I was done with women, done with life. I didn't understand why Rose picked some asshole over me, why I wasn't man enough for her. So we didn't have any money? Who fucking cares, right? My father worked hard, gave me what I needed. Why wasn't I enough? But I wasn't, and that was really hard for me to understand because Rose had been my entire world for as long as I could remember. When I came to Vegas, I thought fuck it and I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. I used women for sex and then threw them away like they were trash. I let drugs control me, I let my feelings of inadequacy control me; let my anger control me."

Emmett brought one of his hands up to her face, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Then one night, you came bursting into the place. And while you were a real bitch to everyone, I saw this scared, angry girl who needed someone to love her. I tried, Ally, I fucking tried to be a good man for you. But I was never who you needed, never who you wanted. You're my best friend, one of the few people who don't look at me and see some fuck-up. And I do love you, I do, but I am in love with Rose. She makes living easier."

"But what about me?" Alice whimpered. "Now that you have her and a baby on the way, I'm left with nothing."

"No, Ally, no," Emmett insisted. "You and me? There will always be you and me. But we have to grow up. We have to stop letting shit from our pasts keep us from being happy."

"So you marry her and get the white-picket fence, and minivan, and the prefect life."

"No way and I driving a mom-mobile," Emmett scoffed. "But why can't I have the prefect life?"

"Because I don't fit into that world, Em," Alice insisted. "I'm the tattooed freak, who changes hair-color every other day, and buys stolen shoes out of the trunk of some dude's car because it gives me a fucking high. I can't be the kind of person you let your kid be around."

"Who said?" he countered. "Who said that all of us freaks can't have our own prefect life?" Emmett turned and looked at me. "You love Bella, right?"

"I do," I admitted.

"And don't you want more with her?" he asked.

I nodded. "But it's not that easy, Em. You know, there's . . ." I blew out a thick breath. "She looks at me and my heart feels like it's going to burst out of my chest, and it scares me."

"Dude, you don't think I'm not scared as fuck that I'm going to fuck everything up with Rose?" Emmett asked.

"No, I'm sure you are, but . . ." I placed my palms on the bar. "The night we went to the diner, I found myself standing there, unable to keep from staring, feeling like a fucking loser, because she's so beautiful. So goddamn beautiful. But it scared me, because I don't let people close to me, you know? So I left, and I went home and I . . ." I laughed softly. "I couldn't stop thinking about her. So, the next night I went back, and she had this smudge of orange paint up next to her ear. I wanted to wipe it off, but the thought of touching her . . ." I whistled under my breath. "I tried to fight my feelings, told myself I didn't need her, but every night I found myself watching her. Bella's everything I never thought I could have, but I don't know that we can ever have normal, Em. I just don't know."

"So it's hopeless?" he asked, almost pleading with us. "We're just doomed to live in Hell for the rest of our lives?"

"Maybe," I said, pushing myself off the bar. "Or maybe you and Rose will be the exception. I don't know, man."

"Yeah, me either," he murmured, turning back to Alice. "Are you still mad at me?"

"I was never mad at you, Em," Alice replied. "But I need some time to deal. Time away from you."

"Oh," Emmett mumbled.

Alice slid off her stool and wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips against his cheek. "I'm sorry, Em. I just . . . I just can't. It hurts too much, watching you get everything I've ever wanted."

"I'm sorry, too," Emmett whimpered, his eyes filling with tears, and it was the first time I'd ever seen him so emotional.

Alice gave me a look before she released him and walked through the back, leaving the two of us sitting there in awkward silence.

—SMTS—

By the time Murphy's Law closed, I was desperate to see Bella. Emmett had been in a bad mood all night, snapping at people left and right, including me, Esme, and Ben. Once the place was empty, Emmett and Ben left, leaving me and Esme alone. We got the place cleaned and then I gave her a ride to Carlisle's apartment, ignoring the way her cheeks warmed at the mention of his name.

"Anything from the police yet?" I asked.

Esme sighed and shook her head. "Still haven't found him. They think he may have left Vegas, headed back to New York, but he hasn't returned to work there. I don't know, Edward. I don't think he'll be found until he wants to be found. Probably after he kills me."

"I won't let that happen," I rebutted.

Esme scoffed. "Like you could stop him." We stopped outside of Carlisle's door. "I know you mean well, Edward, but you can't save us all."

"I can try," I groused.

"Suppose you can, but . . ." Esme shook her head. "Maybe you just care too much."

"Guess I do."

Once Esme was inside Carlisle's apartment, I headed down to Bella's, finding the door open again. I closed it behind me and found her sitting in front of one of her canvas's again. It looked like Bella had dipped her hands in black paint and covered every inch of the canvas before splattering red, yellow, green, blue, and orange. There was something intense about the way each drop had landed.

"You really need to stop staring at me while I'm painting," Bella laughed, looking over her shoulder at me. "Dinner's in the oven. Should be ready in a few minutes."

"What are we having?" I asked.

Bella slid off her stool and walked into the kitchen. I followed and watched as she washed her hands before opening the oven. "I was in the mood for chicken, so I thought we'd try some chicken spaghetti."

"Smells delicious."

Bella smiled before closing the oven and turning back to the counter, picking up the two plates, forks, and napkins she's set out and placing them at her small table. "Want something to drink? I made tea, and I think I have some Kool-aide."

"Tea works." I tossed my helmet and keys on the couch before turning my attention back to Bella, who was filling two glasses with tea. "Are you okay? After this afternoon? Or yesterday afternoon, I guess."

"I'm . . ." Bella shook her head. "I don't know how I am. Confused, scared, lost. I'm just trying very hard not to think about them, actually."

"Does that mean you're not going to see them again?" I asked.

"No, I will," she replied, placing our glasses on the table. "Maybe not like that, but I can't pretend they aren't here. Besides, there are still things I need to tell them, things they won't want to hear."

"Like what?" I asked, sitting in one of the chairs.

"Like many times I've wanted to end my life." Bella shifted her eyes to mine. "Guess you probably didn't want to hear that, either."

"No," I admitted. "But I can understand why you'd feel that way."

"I know you can." Bella opened the oven and pulled out the spaghetti, placing it in the middle of the table. She sat down next to me and dished us each a hearty portion. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I told her.

"After you left Chicago, did you ever consider going back and seeing your mom?"

I inhaled a deep breath and shook my head. "No. I was done with her. Why?"

"Well, I've been thinking about what my mom said at lunch, about how I never went to Forks after I saved. I mean, why didn't I confront them for sending me away to live with him? Shouldn't I have suspected that something was off when the police never arrested them for giving me away?"

"I don't know. You can even ask how the police never told you that you'd been kidnapped when they found you in the first place. Why did it take three years and the old man to have a stroke before you were told anything? I think there's only one person who can answer those questions, don't you think?"

Bella nodded. "The old man."

"The old man," I echoed.

"Why didn't he want me anymore?" Bella mostly asked herself, and that was one question I didn't have an answer to.

**Thank you for all the reviews. The convo between Emmett, Alice, and Edward had me feeling very emotional. **


	40. Chapter 40

**BPOV**

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I muttered under my breath as I pressed my finger down on the delete button for at least the hundredth time that afternoon alone.

"That's a lot of fucks to give," Emily snickered, and when I glared at her, she full out laughed. "Oh, that's a look I usually get from Bridgette. Of course, I'm usually asking her to clean her room or pick up her books off the living room floor. The girl loves reading, but can't seem to remember where her books go."

"I can't do this," I griped, waving my hand toward the computer. I was trying to type out the report Sam had given me about his latest case, and I was still stuck on the first sentence because I was misspelling every word.

"Yes, you can," she said, reaching across the desk and picking up the yellow notepad. "Oy vey, that man needs to work on his penmanship."

"It's not his handwriting that's the problem," I groused, falling back in my chair. "It's me. I'm too stupid to type correctly."

"You really need to stop calling yourself stupid, Bella," Emily tittered and put the notepad back on the desk. "You're doing great."

I snorted, but didn't reply as I turned my attention back to the computer monitor in front of me. Two weeks and I still hadn't gotten a firm hand on the stupid machine. There were too many buttons, too many words that I didn't understand, and I hated it. I felt out of control, but every time I mentioned it to Sam or Emily, they'd just smile and tell me I was doing fine. Yeah, just fine except I couldn't open my email, answer the phone without hanging up on the caller, and I almost had a panic attack when a UPS man delivered a package yesterday while Emily was in with Sam, and I had to sign for it — by myself. My hands were shaking so bad, I dropped the electronic pad he had me sign, and when we both knelt to get it, his hand brushed against mine. I screamed and fell back against the desk, hitting my head and cursing like a sailor.

"I'm fucking pathetic," I whispered.

"Oh, for the love of God, you are not!" Emily exclaimed and when I rolled my eyes, she huffed and threw her notepad on the desk. "You've only been doing this for a couple of weeks. It takes time to learn everything, but you're doing great."

"Bet it didn't take you two weeks to figure out your email," I muttered.

"No, it didn't," she confessed, which did nothing for my self-esteem. "But that doesn't make me smarter than you, or make you pathetic. You need to stop putting so much pressure on your shoulders."

I sighed, but didn't reply as I turned my attention back to the word document I was attempting to type. Dozens of times I'd contemplated quitting, but I knew A) Sam and Emily would never let me quit, and B) the Old Man wanted me here. And while I hadn't been able to bring myself to go see him again, I couldn't disappoint him, either. He meant too much for me to fail him again. I still couldn't understand why he hadn't told me who he was, or told my mother and brother he knew where I was. Was it really all because he was trying to protect me? Did he really think I couldn't handle seeing my family again?

Could I? I might not have seen the Old Man in a couple weeks, but Renee had made it a habit to drop around the office around lunch time and insist that she buy me something to eat. It was . . . scary to be around her, yet I found myself looking forward to her visits. But could I ever really be the daughter she so badly wanted me to be? Could I ever be her Isabella?

I wasn't sure, and that alone scared me.

"Bella." At the sound of Sam calling my name, I turned my attention away from the monitor and looked over at him. He was standing at the edge of the hallway with a smile. "Time for the meeting."

"Oh, yeah, okay," I muttered, frantically searching my desk for a pen, a notepad, and a bit of strength. Once I had the first two, I scrambled to my feet and followed him and Emily into the conference room, where Jake, Seth, Garrett, Jasper, James, and Tyler were waiting for us with our new client, a man named Mike Newton. Tall, thin, with a head full of blond hair, he was the CEO of one of the biggest export companies on the West Coast.

As I walked into the room and settled at the far end of the table, I could feel everyone watching me, and it took all my strength not to flip each of them off. Yeah, I tended to freak out when I found myself in a room full of men, but I was trying my hardest not to let them see how scared I was. A quick glance at Jasper told me that he was just as uncomfortable as me. Needless to say, I was shocked to learn that Sam had offered him a job, a position on his team. Jasper seemed just as reluctant as I had been to come to work for Sam, but I was glad he was there. For some reason, I felt I could trust him.

"Mr. Newton—" Sam started, but stopped speaking when our client cleared his throat.

"It's Mike," he said, smiling as he looked over at me. There was something about him that seemed familiar, yet I couldn't put my finger on it. Almost like a dream that I couldn't quite remember.

Sam smiled and nodded. "Mike would like us to investigate his company. Over the last few months, they've had an increase of theft. It started out as just a few tools here and there, but last month, a part they needed for one of their cranes went missing. And check of the records shows that the part had been there three days beforehand."

"Anybody in particular that you like for it?" Jake asked, tapping his pen on the palm of his hand.

"No." Mike shifted in his seat. "I have just over a hundred employees that work around the clock and who had access to the warehouse were we store our inventory. Out of those, only twenty-two have the key card needed to gain access, but it's not unusual for one of them to allow other employees to use their cards."

"No cameras in the warehouse?" Seth asked, making a note on his own notepad while I attempted to scribble every word that was being said. My hand was already aching.

Mike cleared his throat again. "We have four inside the warehouse, and two outside the doors, but when I reviewed them, there was some kind of interference and the feeds cut out for five minutes."

"What time did the feed go out?" Tyler asked.

"Three eighteen," Mike said.

Tyler nodded and made a note on his notepad.

For next half hour, Mike fielded questions for everyone, provided them with a list of employees, noting who had been on duty during each theft, and providing the team with as much information as he could. Every once in a while he would shift his eyes to mine, and a smile would tug at the corner of his lips. It was awkward and odd, yet a quick glance around the room confirmed that nobody else noticed that way he kept looking at me. Or was I just being paranoid?

Maybe I was just expecting every asshole I came into contact with to be a creep? Was I projecting my trust issues onto a complete stranger? My head throbbed and I wanted to flee from the room as I felt a panic attack brewing deep in my chest.

"We will get a game plan in the works and be in contact next week," Sam said, standing and holding his hand out toward Mike, who immediately wrapped his fingers around Sam's.

"Thank you. I look forward to hearing from you," Mike said while I gathered my stuff and bolted out of the room. I'd just placed my notebook on my desk and sat down when I heard someone clear their throat. I shifted my eyes upward and found Mike standing a few feet on the other side, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips again. Sam was leaned against the entry to the hallway, clearly wanting to make sure Mike didn't overstep his bounds. It was . . . oddly comforting.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Mike asked.

I looked from him to Sam and back before I barely shook my head.

Mike smiled wider. "I didn't think so," he laughed, quietly. "Fifteen years is a long time."

I could feel my heart racing as I pushed my chair back and stood up, staring at the man in front of me. "You knew me when I . . . When I was little?"

Mike nodded. "From the time we were . . . four, I guess. Mrs. Hammish's pre-school class," he said, looking at me intensely. "On our first day of school, I jumped off the swing, but instead of landing on my feet, I hit my head on the bar."

Tears flooded my eyes as I brought my hand up to my mouth. "You cried for your mom, but she was at work, so my mom picked you up and . . ." The words died out in my chest as I began to sob.

"She bought me an ice cream cone and let me go home with you until my mom could pick me up," Mike said, emotionally. He exhaled a heavy breath. "You . . ." He trailed off as he brought his hand up to his mouth. "You let me paint with you."

"Mikey," I whispered, unable to keep his name from rolling off the tip of my tongue.

"You do remember me," he exclaimed, taking a couple of steps toward me.

"Stop!" I screamed, putting both my hands up and moving away from him. Sam pushed off the doorjamb and stepped into the room, but I shook my head, telling him to stay back. "Just stop."

"Okay," Mike murmured, stepping backward. "I'm sorry. I didn't . . . I didn't mean to scare you."

I nodded. "I know."

"It's just been so long, and . . ." Mike paused. "I never thought I'd see you again, to be honest."

"Me, either," I muttered. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I didn't," he admitted. "Not until you walked into that room. Dad . . . My dad recommended Sam and his team, but I had no idea you were here, Isabella."

I tensed. "It's Bella now."

"Okay," he said, quietly.

"Figured you'd still be in Forks," I quipped.

A frown slipped into his face. "After you were taken, Dad . . . Well, he moved us here to Vegas. Said . . . Said if Charlie Swan couldn't keep his little girl safe in Forks, nobody could." He cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other. "He retired from the service a year later and opened the business. He was diagnosed with cancer last year, so I've taken over the business."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Me, too," he echoed, his tone just as somber as mine.

An awkward silence settled between us and I could see Sam standing there, clearly unsure what was going on. Neither was I. Mike had been one of the only friends I had when I lived in Forks. He was small compared to the other boys in our class, and was always getting teased. It hadn't taken long for our friendship to develop. His mom worked full time and his dad was in the Army, so he wasn't there a lot. My mom used to bring him home with us after school. Most of the time he'd watch television while I painted, but occasionally he'd want to paint something, too.

"I should probably get going," Mike said, ending the quiet. Nervously looking from me to the door and back, he said, "Could we, maybe, have lunch sometime? I'd like catch up."

"I . . ." I shook my head. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

Mike nodded. "Yeah, okay. No problem. You have my number," he groused. "If you change your mind."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I just stood there. Mike opened his mouth once more, but then seemed to change his mind before walking out of the building and letting the door close behind him. I fell back into my seat, leaning forward so that my elbows were propped up on my knees. I hadn't seen him since the afternoon Phil Dwyer stole me away and destroyed my entire world. After I found myself free from my tormentor, I didn't want anything to do with Forks, with the family who'd sent me away. Never once I had considered looking Mike up. He'd become a ghost inside my head, a distant memory of a life I used to live.

"Bella." At the sound of Sam's voice, I shifted my eyes up over my desk, finding him still standing in the middle of the room with a look of uncertainty on his face. "Are you okay, honey?"

"I . . ." Shaking my head, I knew I couldn't lie, not again. "No. I'm not okay, Sam."

"Do you need me to call Edward?" he asked, gesturing to the phone on my desk.

I wanted nothing more for Edward to be at my side, to wrap me in his arms and assure me that everything would be all right, but I found myself shaking my head. "Think I'm going to take off early. If . . . if that's okay with you," I stammered, feeling the need to get out of the building. It was taking all my self-control not to claw at my skin, and I wasn't sure why? Mike hadn't been more than a passing thought, so why was his appearance so hard for me to handle?

"Of course," he said, immediately. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

Once again, I found myself saying no. "I need to walk. Fresh air, and . . ." I exhaled as I stood up and grabbed my purse from the floor next to my desk. Picking up my phone and shoving it into my purse, I looked at Sam, still finding him standing in the middle of the room. "I'll be okay, Sam. Just wasn't expecting him."

"No, I suppose you weren't," he murmured, but his body didn't relax. "I'll see you on Monday."

I nodded and walked out of the building, feeling the warm air hit me like a brick. The air was thick and heavy, the heat burned my flesh, but felt good at the same time. I wrapped my arms around my torso as I walked to the bar, needing to see Edward. It was barely two in the afternoon and I knew he would be busy trying to get the place ready for a busy Friday night, but the urge to see him was too intense and I found myself walking faster.

The backdoor was open when I arrived, something I found odd as Edward never left the door open. My heart was pounding as I pulled the door open wider and stepped inside. The quiet was deafening and a feeling of foreboding crept up my spine. Something was wrong—seriously wrong.

As I walked into the front of the bar, I expected to see Edward kneeling behind the bar, clipboard in hand as he counted the bottles, but he wasn't. A lump of fear lodged in my throat as I rounded the bar.

Laying it the middle of a pile of broken glasses, with a pool of dark, crimson blood beneath him, was Edward.


	41. Chapter 41

**EPOV**

I couldn't stop biting my nails as I sat in the small booth and kept my eyes locked on the front door, waiting for Carlisle. He'd stopped me as I was leaving Bella's apartment that morning and invited me to lunch. I heard myself agreeing before I really thought it through, though, and now, I was waiting for him in a dinner not from the clinic Carlisle worked at.

A few minutes later, he walked in and motioned to the hostess that he was joining me. Smiling, he slid into the booth across from me. Before we could say anything to each other, our waitress was standing at the end of the table, smacking a piece of gum, and looking utterly bored.

"What can I getcha?" she asked, sighing as she brought her pad and pencil and looked from me to Carlisle.

"Um," I said, scanning the grease-covered menu. "Burger and fries, I guess. Coke to drink."

She nodded, scribbled my order on her pad before looking at Carlisle. "For you?"

"The same," he replied.

She nodded once more before turning and walking back around the counter, shoving our order at the cook. It was odd to think that Bella once worked in a place like this, not that long ago either.

"So," Carlisle started, drawing my attention to him, "How's it going?"

"Good, I guess." I shrugged my shoulders and grabbed a sugar packet, toying with the edge. "How about you? Life with all the sickies good?"

Carlisle smiled. "Depends on the day, I guess. Today hasn't been too bad."

I nodded, unsure what else to say. He was this big fancy doctor, while I worked in a bar. Our waitress dropped our drinks off so I busied myself with my straw, sucking more than half my glass down in one gulp.

"So I guess you're wondering why I wanted to have lunch today," Carlisle said after taking a small sip of his.

"Yeah," I admitted.

He smiled and leaned forward, placing both his arms on the table. "Has Bella told you how we met?"

I nodded. "A little. Said you stopped her from killing herself."

Carlisle frowned. "The first time I saw her, I was drawn to her. How could I not be? She's beautiful. She was walking home from that fucking shithole she worked at and I was leaving for a shift at the clinic. I held the door open for her and she just kind of stared at me. There was this look in her eyes, Edward, that I hadn't seen in a long time. Pure terror." Carlisle paused. "I saw her a few more times after that, but I couldn't bring myself to actually speak to her until that night."

"What changed that night?" I asked.

Carlisle shifted his eyes out the window. "This woman came into the clinic. A hooker. The john she'd serviced had beaten her after, left her with a broken jaw and several missing teeth. She told me I couldn't wire her jaw shut because if she couldn't suck cock, she wouldn't be able to pay her rent. I did everything I could to talk her into in, but she shook her head, took the pain pills I offered and left." He sighed. "I failed her. I left the clinic and started home. All I wanted to do was curl up with a bottle and forget that hooker. As I was walking up to the building, I saw Bella standing on the roof. Like an angel. I rushed up there before I could even think about what I was doing. She must have heard me because she turned and looked at me and my heart ached, Edward, ached because she was broken. I wanted to scoop her up and make her better, glue the pieces back together. I'm sure she's told you the rest, but Bella's been my best friend for a long time."

I sat there, unsure of what to say. I knew how close the two of them were, how much Bella relied on him. Even if it did make me uncomfortable.

"There was a time when I thought I was in love with her," he confessed, leaning back against the booth. "She was the only part of my life that mattered, the only person that never judged me, never expected more than I could give her. She's . . ." Carlisle trailed off and shook his head. "Well, I don't need to tell you how amazing she is."

"No, you don't," I agreed. "Is this what you wanted to have lunch? To tell me how amazing my girlfriend is?"

Carlisle smiled. "No."

Our waitress placed our burgers and fries in front of us and then walked away. For several minutes, neither of us spoke. Once Carlisle had finished his burger and half his fries, he tossed his napkin on the table and picked up his drink, taking a big gulp.

"She changed," he said, causing me to look up at him. "Bella, I mean. She changed after meeting you. I didn't like sleeping alone, so I'd go to her place a lot, and, um, she'd cry a lot in her sleep. Talk about things that happened to her. I never told her, though."

"Why not?" I asked, popping a fry in my mouth.

Carlisle inhaled a deep breath. "The same reason I never told her about how my dad tried to kill me after shooting my mom."

My eyes widened.

"What? You thought I wasn't a loser, too?" Carlisle scoffed.

"Well, yeah," I said. "You're a doctor."

Carlisle laughed. "Having an M.D. attached to my name doesn't really mean shit, Edward. I'm just as fucked up as everyone else."

"Guess so," I mumbled.

"Look, I know you don't like me," Carlisle started.

"Never said I didn't like you," I told him. "I just . . ."

"You what?" he asked, leaning forward.

"I'm selfish," I admitted. "I want to be enough for her, you know? But I'm not because she needs you. And that . . . That's not easy to handle."

"She needs you more, though," he said, leaning back. "She smiles and laughs with you."

"And she doesn't with you?" I countered, my tone sharper than intended.

"No, she does, but it's forced with me, controlled. She doesn't let herself be happy with me like she does with you." Carlisle paused. "And she's not enough for me, either."

"Bet I can guess who is," I said, smirking. "Esme, perhaps."

Carlisle's cheeks turned red as he nodded. "I want to marry her."

I blew out a heavy breath. "She's been through a lot."

"I know, and I'm willing to wait until she's ready, but I . . ." He laughed softly. "I'm so in love with her. The first time I saw her I . . . I felt like my heart was going to explode. For the first time in too long, I found myself needing to be her hero."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

Carlisle smiled wider. "Because she values your friendship."

"She does? Doesn't seem like it."

"She doesn't want to seem weak, but you're important to her."

I nodded and finished my drink, placing my empty glass on the table. "So you're what? Asking for my blessing?"

"No," he said. "I'm going to ask her to marry me regardless if you like me, Edward. She's my world, and I won't let her go just because you can't see that. But seeing as the two most important women in my life need you, I figured you and I needed to get to know each other."

"So this is a brodate?" I laughed.

Carlisle chuckled. "Guess so."

"For the record, I'm glad Esme has you," I murmured. "And Bella, too."

"Yeah?" he asked, smiling wider.

"Yeah. I mean, I don't want you in her bed anymore," I said, giving him a look, "But I would never ask Bella to give up her best friend."

"I appreciate that, man." Carlisle looked down at his watch. "Oh, crap, I've gotta get back to the clinic." He scooted out the booth and grabbed the check. "Thanks, Edward."

"You're welcome," I said, tossing a few bucks on the table.

I followed Carlisle outside and watched as he headed down to the clinic before turning and making my way to the bar. Maybe one day, he and I could be friends.

—SMTS—

"Okay, so that's everything," Gus said, handing me the clipboard so I could sign for the order. "How's things going with that hottie? What's her name? Ella?"

"Bella," I muttered, messily scribbling my name along the bottom line. "And things are good."

Gus laughed as he turned and walked through the backdoor. He was a nice guy, just a bit too loud and nosy for my tastes. Rubbing the back of my neck, I turned to the boxes of booze I had to unpack and groaned. It would take me the better part of the afternoon. But I knew we'd need all of them. Tonight was the Friday before the fourth of July, which meant even more people drinking away their paychecks, or drowning their sorrows.

Sighing, I grabbed the first box my hands touched and began unpacking it. It took me the better part of the afternoon to get everything unloaded and the boxes broken down and out in the recycling. Heading back inside the bar, I picked up my clipboard and updated my inventory, making sure that I didn't need to pull anything else.

The sound of the backdoor opening drew my attention to the doorway leading to the back. I expected Emmett or Esme, even Alice, who hadn't been back to the bar in over two weeks, but neither of them came through. Instead, I found myself face to face with the man who'd stormed into the bar weeks ago and went after Esme. Her rapist.

He had dark, matted hair and dirt smudged over most of his body and clothes, telling me that he'd been living on the streets, blending in with the homeless instead of heading back to New York like we had assumed. He shifted his dark eyes around the bar, finally landing on me, and I struggled to breathe. I'd seen the look in his eyes before, the look of someone high and strung out, someone looking to hurt whoever gets in their way.

"Where is she?" he demanded, taking a step toward me. Out of reflex, I moved away, cursing when I realized I was trapped behind the bar. "Where's that little bitch?"

"She's not here," I said, reaching into my pocket for my phone, but stopped when the man swung a metal poll at me. "She's not here!"

"Where is she?" he snarled, coming at me and pinning me against the bar. I could smell the booze on his breath, the scent nauseated me. "Tell me where she is!"

"No," I yelled, pushing him away.

He stumbled back, falling against the shelf of booze and causing them to fall on top of him and crash onto the floor. I leapt over the bar, my foot clipping a tray of beer muggles that I'd put there when I came in, sending them flying across the room and made for the front door, but before I could get more than a few steps away, I felt the hard, steel bar collide with the back of my head, sending my sprawling on the floor. Another blow hit on my right arm. Groaning and trying to keep from screaming, I clutched my arm and rolled onto my back, finding the man standing over me with the bar still in his hand.

"Tell me where she is, and I won't hurt you anymore, boy," he snarled.

"No," I gritted out, knowing regardless if I told him or not, he would kill me. "You will never get your hands on her again. NEVER!"

The man laughed as he lifted the bar over his head, swinging it down against my leg, right on my kneecap. I screamed, rolling onto my stomach and tried to crawl away, but seeing as I had a broken arm and leg, I wasn't able to get too far before I felt him climb onto my back, his arm wrapping around my neck. I struggled to breath and tears were mixing with sweat as it poured down my face.

"How about we have a little fun, boy? Then we'll see how willing you are to keep my little bitch away from me?" His breath was warm and smelled like cheap whiskey.

"No," I stammered, trying in vain to fight him off, but he had the upper hand as he reached below me and grabbed at the buckle to my belt, quickly undoing it and pulling it out of my jeans. He grabbed my arms, not caring about the bones he'd broken in my right arm, and had begun to bind my hands together, but stopped when we heard the back door open and close.

"Guess today's your lucky day," he murmured, before picking up the bar he'd beat me with and took off through the front door.

I tried to keep my eyes open, tried to scream for help, but the words failed to leave my mouth. As I heard footsteps, darkness pulled me into its embrace and held me like a thick, summer blanket.


	42. Chapter 42

**BPOV**

"What's taking so long?" I grumbled, pacing back and forth in the waiting room at University Medical Center, the same hospital the Old Man had been brought to when he had his stroke, when my world started falling apart.

"I'll check with the desk again," Carlisle said, standing up and grabbing me by the shoulders, stopping me from pacing. "But please sit down before they call the guys with the little white jackets."

"Car," I whimpered, feeling tears burning my eyes for at least the fiftieth time in the last two hours, ever since I walked into the bar and found the love of my life lying in a pool of his own blood. A panic filled my chest and I clutched the front of my shirt, trying to quell the urge to lash out at him. It wasn't his fault that Edward had been hurt, but there was nobody to blame yet.

Carlisle covered my hand with his. "I know, honey."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead before turning and walking up to the desk, once again questioning the triage nurse for an update on Edward, and based on the look on his face, he had once more been brushed off. I hated that bitch. Didn't she understand that my entire world was in a bed in the back? Why wasn't she more concerned?

"Stupid bitch," Carlisle muttered as he walked up to me. "Says she will let the doctor know we're wanting an update."

"Gee, how nice of her," I groused and started pacing again.

Carlisle grabbed my arms again, but when my body tensed, he released me. "Please sit down."

"If he dies . . ." I couldn't even finish. The thought of him not living, of never being in his arms again, of losing him, had me gasping for air.

"Jesus Christ," Carlisle said, pulling me to sit in the chair next to his. "He's gonna be fine. Edward's a fighter."

"But how much more can he fight?" I whispered, mostly to myself. "He's been through Hell. Fought to live, fought to be normal. Why would someone go after him?" I cried. "He's the most amazing person I've ever met!"

"I don't know, Bell. I just don't know."

Carlisle wrapped his arm around me and held me tight as I wept for the man I loved. Walking into the bar and finding him hurt and beaten had been a shock. My hands trembled as I called for help, barely able to give out the address of the bar through my tears. Carlisle had shown up with Esme while the paramedics were loading Edward into the ambulance. Emmett and Ben arrived as Carlisle and I were leaving, and had stayed behind to talk to the police, to check if anything had been stolen. The cops were sure this had been a burglary gone badly, but I wasn't convinced. There was something off about this, something that didn't make sense to me. And that scared me.

The doors to the hospital opened and we looked over to find Emmett and Esme rushing in, both looking frazzled and scared.

"Any word?" Emmett asked, sitting in the seat across from us while Esme stood awkwardly, like she wasn't sure what she should do, or if she should be there.

"No," Carlisle said with a sigh and reached over and grabbed Esme's hand, settling her in the chair on his other side.

"That's bad, right?" Esme asked. "It's been what? An hour? Two?"

"If not more," Carlisle said. "Who knows how long he laid there."

Feeling the panic well up inside me again, I scrambled to my feet and started pacing again. How long had he laid there? Five minutes, two hours, all day? I knew he'd had lunch with Carlisle at eleven, but had he walked into the bar and interrupted a burglar and paid for it?

I'm not sure how long I had been pacing when the doors to the back of the emergency room opened and Dr. Gerandy looked around the waiting room, saying, "Family for Edward Masen."

"That's me!" I nearly screamed as I scrambled past everyone to him. "Is he okay?"

"You're his family?" Dr. Gerandy asked.

"Yes," I lied. "Is he okay?"

Dr. Gerandy frowned and looked around, clearly unsure he should tell me anything.

"She's his fiancée," Carlisle said, stepping up next to me.

"Fiancée, huh, Dr. Cullen?" Dr. Gerandy asked.

"Yep," Carlisle chirped. "It's new. Just happened a couple days ago."

"Okay, if you say so." The doctor looked down at me. "He's not great. He has two breaks in his right arm, but it's his knee that concerns me. His kneecap was shattered, he'll need a full replacement."

"Oh my God," I whispered, bringing my hand up to my mouth.

"But he doesn't have insurance, and the hospital won't allow me to do the surgery unless he can pay at least half the cost up front," Dr. Gerandy stated.

"How much are we talking?" I asked.

He hesitated before saying, "At least fifty thousand dollars."

I gasped.

"I can ship him off to County, but, to be blunt, they're a bunch of assholes, who I wouldn't trust to give me a bandage."

"But fifty grand?" I murmured. "That's a lot of money."

"It is," Dr. Gerandy agreed. "He also suffered a head trauma. We're keeping him sedated for a while to keep the pressure down."

"Can I see him?" I asked. "Please?"

Dr. Gerandy nodded and opened the door leading into the back for me. I turned to Carlisle and held out my cell phone. "Call Renee. Tell her . . . tell her I need her."

Carlisle wrapped his fingers around mine and slipping my phone from me. Knowing how difficult it was for me to ask for her, he nodded and said, "Okay."

When I walked into Edward's room, tears flooded my eyes and I began to sob. He looked so helpless in the bed, tubs and wires hooked up to his body. I crossed the room and picked up his left hand, carefully bringing it up to my chest, placing his palm over my heart. I couldn't lost him. Not after everything we'd been through. We deserved a happy ending to our lives . . . Didn't we?

"What will happen if he can't get his knee fixed?" I asked, knowing Dr. Gerandy was still in the room with us.

"He'll never be able to walk again. At least, not without the use of a cane."

I nodded. "Schedule the surgery."

"What about the money?" he asked.

Looking over my shoulder at him, I said, "I'll take care of it."

Dr. Gerandy gave me a piercing look before nodding and walking out of the room, leaving me and Edward alone. I pulled a chair over and settled next to his bed, keeping his hand pressed against my chest. I wouldn't let him suffer at the hands of someone else ever again.

—SMTS—

An hour later they moved Edward from the emergency room to a regular room, allowing me to go with him. Once we were alone again, I settled next to his bed, watching as his chest rose and fell with every breath he tool. I'm not sure how long I sat there when the door to his room opened and I looked over to see Carlisle leading Renee into the room. I stood up as Renee rushed over to me, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. Though I knew she would never hurt me, I felt my body tense at the contact.

"Thanks for coming," I whispered.

"Of course." Renee released me and brought her hands up to my face. "What happened?"

"I — I don't know," I stammered. "I found him . . . in the bar. He . . . there was blood . . . and . . ." I trailed off as I took a deep breath and looked from her to Edward. "He needs surgery on his knee, but they won't do it unless he can pay half of it upfront. And he doesn't have insurance or . . . any money."

"I see," she said. "Is that why you had your friend call me? To ask me for money?"

I barely nodded.

"How much do you need?" she asked.

"Um," I paused and bit my bottom lip, "Fifty thousand."

Her eyes widened. "Oh."

"I — I know it's a lot of money, but . . ." I shifted my eyes to Edward. "He's everything to me. The only person to love me without expecting me to be perfect."

"No, he isn't," Renee said, softly. I turned back to her. Tears flooded her eyes and her lips were trembling. "I never expected you to be perfect. I just expected you to be you. The beautiful woman you are. I never stopped loving you; not once. But you keep pushing me away, and when you finally reach out to me, it's because you want money."

"That's the person you think I am?" I whispered.

"I don't know who you are because you won't let me know you," she replied.

I frowned and brought my hand up to my mouth. "I want to let you in. I do, but it's hard. I'm so . . ."

"So what?" she pleaded.

"Ashamed," I wept. "He said you didn't want me anymore, and I believed him. From the minute he took me, I believed every word that he said. When he . . . when he said I owed him, I . . . I didn't fight hard enough. I let him . . ."

"You were a little girl, Bella," Renee murmured, bringing her hand back up to my face.

"So?" I wailed. "Does that matter?"

"Of course it matters."

I shook my head as I stepped away from her. "I don't think it does. And right now, I need . . . Edward needs me, so if you won't help me, then I guess you can go."

Renee's jaw tightened as she looked from me to Edward. Nodding, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Edward and Carlisle. Sitting back next to the bed, I slipped my hand back into Edward's and let my tears fall. I was selfish for calling her like this, for asking her to help Edward when I fought her every attempt to be a part of my life. I was a horrible daughter. I deserved every bad thing that had happened to me.

—SMTS—

Hours passed and I refused to leave Edward's side, even when the nurses tried to insist that visiting hours were over, that I had to leave. I couldn't, though. If he woke up and I wasn't there, if he woke up and he was alone and in a strange place, he would freak out. I would have, and I knew he would, too. After Dr. Gerandy gave me permission to stay, they brought me a cot, but I couldn't lay down. I needed to touch him, to hold onto him, begging him to stay with me.

Around three in the morning, the door to Edward's room opened and his nurse came in, smiling at me. Tanya was beautiful, with strawberry blond hair and wide, blue eyes. She'd been the only nurse to come in all night, and I had a feeling Dr. Gerandy had instructed her to focus all her attention on Edward.

"How's he doing?" Tanya asked, checking his stats and making a note in his chart.

"I don't know," I murmured. "Should he still be asleep?"

"Sometimes it takes a bit to wean off the medication," she explained, sliding her fingers across the bandages wrapped around his right arm. "You should sleep."

"I can't," I whispered.

"Yeah, I didn't think you would. How about some coffee?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction. "We have the best coffee in Vegas. Seriously, we do. You wouldn't think so, but it's really, really good."

"Well, as long as it's really, really good," I snickered. "Thank you."

Tanya smiled. "You're welcome. I'll be right back."

I turned my attention back to Edward while she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. He looked so peaceful, so perfect. I loved him more than ever, more than I could ever love anyone. He was everything good in the world, and I couldn't understand why anyone would want to hurt him. He wasn't like me: worthless and disposable.

I didn't realize I had been crying until Tanya walked back into the room and frowned.

"Oh, sweetie, you really should get some sleep. Your fiancé will be okay if you close your eyes. I promise."

"He's not my fiancé," I whispered, shaking my head.

"Are . . . too." Gasping, I turned back to Edward, finding him staring at me with wide, fearful eyes. "Marry me."

**Thank you for all the reviews. I know, another cliffy. It's a sickness, I tell ya. A sickness.**


	43. Chapter 43

**EPOV**

My head felt heavy, like a thick fog over a long, deserted highway. Not only did I feel an intense heaviness, my body ached, throbbed. My eyes fluttered open once, twice, a third time before I was able to focus on my surroundings. I was in the hospital. My room was dark, the only light coming from the machines next to my bed and a dull light over the sink.

However it was the woman clutching onto my left hand that had my attention. Though she was turned away from me, I could tell she was crying. I wanted to reach out to her, but I couldn't seem to move. Before I could say anything, the door to my room opened and I barely noticed the strawberry-blond nurse trekking inside with a cup of coffee in her hand.

She looked at Bella and sighed. "Oh, sweetie, you really should get some sleep. Your fiancé will be okay if you close your eyes. I promise."

"He's not my fiancé," Bella whispered, her head shaking.

Her words hurt more than I thought they would. I knew I wanted to marry her, wanted her to be my wife, and before I could stop myself, I heard myself saying, "Are . . . too."

Bella gasped as she looked down at me, tears glistening on her cheeks.

"Marry me?" I asked, my words trembling.

"Edward," she breathed, a smile spreading on her face as she brought her free hand up to my face. "You're awake."

"Marry me," I begged, leaning into the touch. "Be mine forever. Please, marry me."

Bella bit her lip before shifting her eyes to the nurse, who was watching us with a smile. "Okay."

"Okay?" I asked, smiling. "Okay, you'll marry me?"

Bella barely nodded her head. "If you want."

"I'll just go call the doctor," the nurse giggled, before she shoved the coffee into Bella's hand and turned, walking over to the door. Pausing, she looked back at us. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," I told her, grinning. The nurse left and I turned back to Bella, who was nervously fiddling with the lid on her cup. "So . . ."

"Yeah, so," she murmured, shifting her eyes to mine. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking away. "I . . . I was scared, too. I, um, I . . ." I blew out a heavy breath and shook my head, which was the wrong thing to do seeing as pain flooded my head. "Jesus fuck!"

"Oh, my God, are you okay?" Bella cried, nearly throwing her cup of coffee on the table before she reached for me.

"No," I gritted out. "Pain. Lots of pain."

Before either of us could say anything, the door to my room opened once more and a doctor and the nurse from before trickled into my room, followed closely by two police officers and Carlisle, who looked scared and nervous.

"Edward," the doctor said, reaching out of my left hand. "I'm Dr. Gerandy. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

"Pain," I choked out. "Lots of pain."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure there is," he murmured before reaching over and fiddling with my IV. "This should help." He smiled and looked from me to Bella and back. "You've sustained several injuries. Two breaks in your right arm, large laceration on your head, but it's your knee that concerns us the most. You shattered your kneecap. I have you scheduled for surgery tomorrow," he said, shifting his eyes to the clock. "Or more like today."

"Oh," I murmured. "I don't have insurance."

Dr. Gerandy smiled. "It's been taken care of."

I furrowed my brow, which turned out to be a mistake because the pain increased.

"Don't worry, Edward; we're going to take good care of you." Dr. Gerandy turned to the nurse. "Keep me updated on his pain level and stats."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse replied.

Dr. Gerandy turned back to me. "If you need anything, anything at all, let Tanya know. Don't be brave, Edward. There's no shame in needing help."

"I will," I told him, unsure if I was lying or not. He nodded before walking passed the two police officers and Carlisle and out of my room. I shifted my eyes to the cops. "Guess you need me to tell you what happened?"

The cop standing closest to Carlisle nodded. "We have a witness who saw someone fleeing just moments before the 911 call."

I shifted my eyes away from theirs. "Kind of tall, wide shoulders. Brown hair and eyes. Mean and nasty looking."

The cop once again nodded.

"Yeah, sounds like him," I whispered, looking at Bella, who had one hand covering her mouth while the other arm was wrapped around her torso. "I, um, I'd just gotten a delivery and was trying to get the bar stocked when I heard the backdoor open. I didn't think anything of it at first because it's not unusual for my co-workers to come in early, but, um, when I saw him in the doorway, I knew something was going to happen."

"How?" the second cop asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"He, um, he'd been there before," I told them. "Like, I don't know, six weeks ago, I think." I shifted my eyes to Carlisle for a moment before looking at the cops. "He came after one of our waitresses."

Carlisle inhaled a sharp breath. "The guy stalking Esme?"

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, who's Esme?" the second cop asked.

"My girlfriend," Carlisle muttered. "The guy's name is Liam O'Connor. She pressed charges against him for rape, assault, stalking."

Both cops' eyes widened as they looked from Carlisle to me. "Did he r—"

"No!" I snarled, grabbing my bedrails with my good hand and lurching forward. "Fucking no!"

"That's enough," Tanya said, placing her hand on my shoulder and pushing me back against the mattress. "He needs to rest."

Though I could tell they were reluctant to leave, the cops nodded their heads and placed a card on the table and walked out of my room. Tanya fiddled once more with my IV before leaving me, Bella, and Carlisle alone. The moment the door was closed behind her, I closed my eyes, trying to push back the memories of his hands on me, his words out of my head. If he hadn't been interrupted, I had no doubt that he would have done horribly, nasty things to me. Things I'd worked too hard to put behind me.

"Edward," Carlisle murmured, and I opened my eyes, looking over at him. "He was looking for her, wasn't he?"

I nodded. "Got pretty pissed when I refused to tell him where she was."

Carlisle dragged his hand over his face and through his hair. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, man," I told him. "Just keep her close, okay? He's . . ." I trailed off, knowing I didn't need to remind him just how dangerous this Liam asshole was.

"I'm going to head out," Carlisle said, gesturing to toward the door. "Esme's with Emmett and Rose. She was pretty shook up."

"Me too," I admitted. "Keep her safe."

Carlisle nodded before looking at Bella and then walking out of my room, leaving just me and her.

"What time is it?" I asked, pulling on her hand.

Bella pursed her lips together before she looked at the clock and said, "Just after four in the morning."

"Ah." I pulled on her hand again, causing her to look down at me. "You're too far away."

Bella smiled and sat on the edge of my bed, being careful not to hurt my injured leg. "I thought I'd lost you. There was so much blood, and . . ." A darkness filled her eyes as she shook her head. "I don't know what I'd do if I'd lost you."

"But you didn't," I said, pulling her attention back to me. "I'm still here."

"Broken and battered," she murmured. "Did he . . . Did he . . . you know?"

I felt my entire body tense. "No," I told her. "No, he didn't have a chance. He'd started to bind my hands together, but then we heard someone in the back, and he ran off."

"Thank God," she whimpered, covering her mouth with her hand.

"So, fiancé, huh?" I asked.

Bella's eyes widened. "They wouldn't tell me anything otherwise."

"Hmm, okay."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't . . . I mean, I would never . . . I was just so worried."

"Hey, look at me," I told her, causing her to turn to me. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Edward," she exclaimed. "Look at you! Your body is broken."

"My body, yes, but not my spirit," I argued. "Do you want to marry me, Bella?"

Bella's mouth opened and closed a half-dozen times before she nodded. "More than anything. But I'm scared, too."

"Scared of what?" I asked.

"Scared that I won't be the wife you deserve," she whispered.

"You're exactly who and what I deserve," I told her.

"Yeah?" she asked, softly.

I nodded.

"And you really want to marry me?" The question rolled off her tongue as a blush filled her cheeks.

"More now than ever," I said. "And will you really marry me?"

Bella sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she nodded. "More now than ever," she whispered.

Just before seven, Tanya strolled into the room with another nurse behind her, this one with blond hair.

"How's it going in here?" Tanya asked.

"Oh, you know," I told her, waving my not-broken hand in the air. "When's my surgery?"

"About an hour. Gotta get some prep done first, though," she said, gesturing to the woman standing behind her. "This is Kate. She's Dr. Gerandy's nurse. She'll be getting you ready for surgery and then keeping an eye on you today. I'll be back tonight, though."

I nodded.

"We're gonna get you all fixed up, Edward. Don't worry." Tanya shifted her attention to Bella. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," Bella murmured.

"Didn't ask if you were hungry, said you need to eat. You've been here all night and all you've had is coffee. I'm going to have them send up a tray for you. Eat it."

Bella sighed. "Fine, whatever."

Tanya grinned before looking back at me. "You can't have anything, though. Sorry."

"What kind of recovery am I looking at?" I asked.

Tanya frowned. "Had to say. You're basically getting a new knee, so there will be a long rehabilitation period."

"Oh."

"But don't worry about that right now."

"Yeah, I'll try," I replied, dryly.

An hour later, Kate had prepped me for surgery and they were ready do take me to the operating room. Bella had my hand between hers, pressed against her lips as tears swam in her eyes. I wanted to reassure her that I would be fine, but I couldn't. We lived in the real world, where bad shit happened.

"I love you so much. So very, very much," she whispered.

"I love you, too." And I did. I loved her with every part of my heart and soul, and once I was healed, I'd make her my wife.

**Thank you for all the reviews. This chapter was difficult. Had a hard time getting the words to come out the way I wanted.**


	44. Chapter 44

**BPOV**

I stood in the middle of the hallway and watched as they wheeled Edward down the hallway, feeling a piece of my heart tearing away. He wanted to marry me. I was fucked up and crazy, but he wanted to marry me. Me! The girl who was broken. He loved me, flaws and all.

"It'll be a few hours," Dr. Gerandy said, stepping up next to me. "You should eat."

"I'm not hungry," I told him, shifting my attention to him. "Is he going to be okay? Once you fix his knee, I mean. Is . . . Is he going to be okay?"

"It won't be easy, but he's young and healthy. Shouldn't be more than a few months of physical therapy."

I sighed and looked back down the hallway. "And how much is that going to cost him?"

"Nothing," Dr. Gerandy said and I felt my shoulders tense as I turned my attention back to him. "All of his medical needs have been taken care of, Miss Swan."

"What? How?" I stammered, but it was the person I saw sitting in the waiting room at the end of the hallway that drew my attention and without another word, I found myself running down the hall, sliding to a stop outside of the door. She must have sensed my presence, because Renee looked up from the magazine resting on her crossed legs and met my gaze. "You paid for him? For all his medical care?"

Renee closed the magazine before she tossed it on the table in front of her and reached for me. Tears welled up in my eyes as I walked to her, sliding into the chair next to hers. Her hands covered mine as she smiled.

"He's important to you, honey. I see how much you . . . Well, love him," she said, quietly. "And while I wish you would have reached out to me because you needed my support, needed someone to hold you up, I'm glad that you felt comfortable enough to ask for my financial help." Renee paused as she brought one of her hands up to my face, brushing away a tear as she pushed my hair behind my ear. "I love you, Bella. And that will never change. Even . . . even if you never return that love."

I opened my mouth half-a-dozen times before I managed say anything. "I do love you," I cried. "I do, but I don't know how to be your daughter, how to let you be here for me. I don't remember life before I was taken, just . . ." I trailed off, unsure if I should share my feelings or not.

"Just what?" she asked. "Hmm?"

"Just pain," I whispered. "And disappointment and being afraid of when I heard my door being unlocked."

Renee's eyes were filled with tears, and I hated that I was hurting her again.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I . . . I'm sorry that I keep hurting you."

"Don't be sorry, honey. You've done nothing wrong. I wish I could have saved you from going through all that. I really do, but I can't. And it's not easy to sit here and know that you've been hurt so much. But I will never stop loving you. And I will never, ever stop wanting to be your mom. No matter how much you push me away, or how scared you are. I'm here, Bella, for good. Okay?"

I nodded, unable to keep the tears from falling. Renee wrapped her arms around me and nestled me in her embrace as I sobbed, holding me like a mother hugged their child after falling and scraping their knee. And for a moment, I could just be her daughter, and not the girl who was thrust in Hell.

—SMTS—

I'm not sure how long I'd been laying in my mother's arms when Carlisle showed up with Esme, Emmett, Rose, and to my surprise, Marcus. I pulled myself away from Renee and tried to wipe the tears off my face, but knew it was pointless. I was done being strong, done trying to pretend my life hadn't been a clusterfuck.

"Is he okay?" Esme asked, her voice breaking.

"No," I told her. "He's not."

She nodded and brought her hand up to her mouth, causing Carlisle to wrap his arm around her.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Esme shifted her eyes to mine. "M . . . me?"

"Yeah. Are you okay? I . . . I know I'd be terrified if . . . if the man who'd . . ." I trailed off. "Are you? Okay, I mean."

Esme shook her head. "I . . . I'm tired. Tired of running, tired of hiding. Tired of being afraid that he's going to be there in the shadows." Esme frowned. "Edward was there when I needed someone to tell me it was okay to be scared, that I was worth something. I don't know how many times I told him to fuck off, how many times I told him to leave me alone, that my problems were mine and he didn't need to worry about me. I never thought he'd get hurt because of me."

"It wasn't because of you," I told her. "This guy, he's . . . It's not your fault, Esme, and Edward won't blame you."

"Yeah?" she whimpered.

I nodded. "He's just that amazing."

A sound at the doorway drew our attention. Alice and Jasper stood in the doorway. I knew Edward had been so worried about her. In a pair of baggy jeans and a simple T-shirt, Alice shifted from one foot to the other, her eyes locked on Emmett, who had stood up.

"Hey, Ally-Cat," he murmured.

"Hey," she whispered. "Sorry, I . . . Well, Rose called and . . ." Alice trailed off as her hand lifted to her chest. "I'm sorry, Em. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

He met her halfway across the waiting room, lifting her off the ground as he hugged her. Alice's arms and legs wrapped round him and the sound of their muffled crying could be heard. Bella shifted in her seat, looking up at Renee, who seemed a little surprised by everything.

"Sorry," I murmured, causing her to look at me. "This is my family. Part of it at least."

Renee smiled and nodded. "Then they're part of my family, too. But I don't know who they are, so maybe could introduce us?"

I laughed. "Guess that would help." Clearing my throat, I pulled everyone's attention to me. "Um, guys, this is my . . ." I paused. "My mom Renee," I added, and then pointed to Marcus. "And that's my bratty brother Marcus."

"I'm not a brat!" he whined, causing everyone to snicker under their breaths.

"Whatever you say, dude," I scoffed before pointing to Carlisle. "That's Carlisle. He's my best friend. We live in the same building. And, um, that's Esme, his girlfriend."

Their cheeks turned pink as they waved and muttered "Hello," to Renee and Marcus.

"And the big guy with the dimples is Emmett. He and Rose, the blond with tears running down her face, are engaged and expecting a baby," I explained, pointing at Emmett and then Rose, who had been watching him and Alice reunite. The fact that she'd called Alice, knowing that both Edward and Emmett needed her, told me how much she had changed in the last few weeks.

"Hi," Rose whispered, while Emmett gave them a wave of his hand and settled in the seat next to her with Alice almost in his lap.

"Ally-Cat is actually Alice. She, Emmett, and Esme work with Edward. Rose and Jasper used to work at the diner with me," I told them, pointing out Jasper, who looked terrified. "Jasper and I are working together now, though, so . . ." I trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

"Wow, that's a lot of information to process," Renee laughed. "It's nice to meet each of you."

"Yeah, you too," Carlisle said while the others mumbled under their breaths.

—SMTS—

An hour turned into two, then shifted into three and then four, and I found myself anxiously waiting for Dr. Gerandy to come tell me Edward would be okay, but he didn't. Feeling frustrated, I pushed myself out of the chair next to Renee and walked to the doorway of the waiting room, searching for any signs of the doctor who was supposed to fixing my fiancé's knee.

I smiled as I brought my fingers up to my lips. Edward wanted to marry me. I still couldn't believe it.

"What has you so happy?" Marcus groused, bumping me with his shoulder as he stepped up next to me.

I bit my lip as I shifted my eyes up to his. "Nothing," I lied.

"Hmm," he scoffed, before looking over his shoulder at Renee, who'd just laughed at something Emmett had said. "They're an interesting group."

"Yeah," I agreed, angling my body so that I was facing him.

Marcus shifted his attention back down to me. "She was happy when your friend called, when he said you needed her. We were with Dad and she was happy. She insisted that I stay with him, said she didn't want to overwhelm you."

"There's never a second that I'm not overwhelmed," I confessed.

"Yeah, I suppose I can understand that," he murmured. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. About you, about me, about how fucked up everything is between us. One day you were yelling and screaming at me to get out of your room, and then you were gone. Just gone. Mom and Dad cried, they cried all the time. I didn't understand at first, I don't think. Shit, I was barely old enough to wipe my own ass, and suddenly, everything in my life was different."

"The Old Man was the highlight of my days," I confessed. "I've been angry for years. So angry and scared and . . . and broken. I blamed them. Charlie and Renee, I mean. I blamed them for letting him take me, for letting me suffer at his hands. And I know that's not fair, but I really thought they gave me away. But the Old Man would come into the diner and he'd . . . Well, he was a crotchety old bastard, but he was mine. He told me I was better than that shithole, better than a life where I could barely breathe. He wanted me in his life. And then I found out that he . . . that he's my father," I cried. "And I felt so betrayed, Marcus."

I paused. "He lied to me. Every day for two years, he sat in that booth and never told me who he was, that he was there for me. Every day and I never even knew it."

"If it helps, I'm pissed, too," he said, softly.

"You are?" I asked.

He nodded. "You were taken and he searched to the ends of the earth for you, Bella. He never gave up on trying to find you, but he left me. Walked out of the house one morning and told me to have a good day at school. And I didn't see him again for six years. So yeah, I'm pissed with Dad and the man who took you, with everyone who failed you. With myself."

"Yourself?" I asked, frowning. "Why are you pissed with yourself?"

Marcus shrugged his shoulders. "Because I couldn't protect you. Because I . . . I annoyed you, and because I've made you cry since you found us, and because I want my big sister back so much that I . . ." Blowing out a thick breath, Marcus paused and blinked back the tears in his eyes. "I lash out and lose my shit when all I really want is to hug you."

I smiled. "Hug me? You want to hug me? When did we ever hug?"

Marcus laughed. "Touché."

"I can't hug you yet, but . . ." I looked over my shoulder at Renee before taking a step closer to him. "Want to hear a secret?"

"Is it scary?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Terrifying," I snickered. "Edward asked me to marry him, and I said yes."

Marcus's eyes widened, but he smiled. "For real?"

"For real," I chuckled, softly. "You're the only person I've told, so don't tell anyone yet."

"I won't," he promised. "Does he make you happy?"

Biting my lip again, I nodded. "As happy as I get, at least. I'm terrified, but I love him, and he loves me. With him, I don't have nightmares, or panic attacks. I don't feel like the walls are closing around me. He makes me better."

Marcus smiled. "The brother in me wants to go all caveman on him, threaten him not to hurt you."

"He'd never hurt me," I whispered, shaking my head. "He's . . . he's one of the good guys."

"I know he is." Marcus placed his hand on my shoulder. "If you're happy, then I'm happy."

"Thanks," I murmured, shifting my eyes down the hallway, feeling my body tense as I saw Dr. Gerandy walking toward me. I pulled myself away from my brother as I rushed toward him, meeting him halfway. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine, he's fine," he assured me, putting his hands up. "The damage in his knee was a little more intricate than I originally thought. That's why the surgery took longer than expected. But he made it through surgery just fine. They've moved him back into his room, if you want to go see him."

I closed my eyes for a moment, releasing a deep breath. "Thank you. I . . . Just thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll be back to check on him in a little while."

As Dr. Gerandy turned and walked away from me, I shifted my eyes back to the waiting room, where Renee and Marcus were standing with Emmett, Rose, Alice, Jasper, Carlisle, and Esme. Our family. Our people. Giving them a subtle nod first, I turned and walked down the hallway and into Edward's room. He was still unconscious, so I pulled a chair up next to his bed. Wrapping my fingers around good hand, I waited for the man I was going to marry to wake up.


	45. Chapter 45

**EPOV**

"What time is it?" I asked, shifting my eyes from the door to my room to Bella, who was curled up in the chair next to my bed. Her brand new laptop, curtsy of her boss Sam, was propped up on her knees. He'd stopped by with it six days before, the day after my knee surgery. Said he knew Bella wouldn't leave my side, but didn't want her to get behind on work, either. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I said nothing. Her job with Sam's company wasn't something I liked, but she needed to make her own way. As well as she could considering her father all but forced the job on Sam.

Bella sighed as she shifted her eyes from the document she'd been stressing over and looked at the clock. "As you can read for yourself, it's ten after three."

I smiled. "You're too far away."

"Any closer and I'd be sitting in your lap," she scoffed, but closed her laptop, stood up, and settled on the edge of my bed.

After a week in the hospital, I'd been allowed to put normal clothes on. And by normal, I mean T-shirt stretched over the cast on my arm and a pair of sweatpants with one of the legs cut off so I could cover the brace on my leg. The knee replacement had gone smoothly, according to my doctor, and I was on the road to recovery. Whatever that meant. My arm was broken, my leg was ruined, my head ached, and I wouldn't be able to go back to work for several weeks, meaning I was out of a job. Murphy's Law may have been a dump, but it was mine.

"Hey," Bella murmured, bringing her hand up to my face. "Whatcha thinking about, handsome?"

I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes. "Nothing."

"Liar," she whispered. "Talk to me."

"Just thinking about my job," I admitted, opening my eyes and looking at her. She was frowning. "Why so sad, beautiful?"

"Wish I could do more for you," she said, quietly.

I snorted; she'd already done too much. Or her family had. Bella told me how Renee had paid all my medical bills, including the physical therapy I needed. If I hadn't known how difficult it had been for her to approach her mother for help, I would have been upset that I was someone's charity project. I didn't like owing anyone. Debt led to those who could—and would—take whatever they wanted as repayment.

"Hey," Bella murmured. "Where'd you go, handsome?"

I opened my mouth to tell her, but the words died in my throat. The last thing I wanted was her to feel bad about putting me in such an awkward position. "Just tired."

"Hmm," she hummed, but didn't call me out on my lie. "Dr. Gerandy should be here soon. Maybe you'll get to go home."

"Yeah, maybe." But could I? How could I get to my apartment when I couldn't walk? Couldn't even use crutches, thanks to my busted arm.

At that moment, someone knocked on my hospital room door. Bella sighed as she slipped of the edge of the bed, walking toward the door. The urge to scream for her to come back, to hide filled me. The guy who had attacked me, this Liam O'Conner, still hadn't been caught. Biting my lip, I kept my fears to myself as I watched Bella pull the door open, relief washing over me when I saw Carlisle and Esme standing there.

"Hey," Bella said, stepping backward and looking back at me. "You up for visitors?"

"Sure," I lied. Truth be told, I hated that they kept coming by, hated that they'd seen me in my weakest moment. I felt vulnerable, a feeling I'd worked too hard not to control me. "What's up?"

"Not much," Carlisle said, wrapping his arm around Bella and kissing the top of her head before following Esme across the room to my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Great." Once more the fib poured out of my mouth with ease. My body ached, my head hurt, and I was tired of laying around all the time. Even though my physical therapist had been coming in to see me every day, I wanted to go home. But I'd be lucky if I had a home left. No job meant no money for rent. I looked over at Esme. "You working tonight?"

"Um, no," she said. "Paul sold the bar. We're under new management."

"New management? Who?" I asked.

"I don't know." Esme shrugged her shoulders. "None of us have met them yet, but they're paying us two weeks' vacation while they remodel."

"Oh." I couldn't imagine who would want to buy Murphy's Law. The bar wasn't worth shit.

"Yeah. Emmett thinks they're going to turn it into one of those posh, cocktail places that cater to the rich," Esme scoffed.

"Great," I groused. "We're sure to fit right in."

"Right?" Esme laughed, but it was tense and strained.

"Any sign of him?" I asked.

She shifted her eyes to mine. "No. The police thinks he's left town."

"They're fucking idiots," I quipped. "He's still here. Waiting, watching."

"Edward —"

"Don't," I interrupted, putting my hand up. "Just don't apologize."

"But if I hadn't —"

"Shut up!" I yelled, wincing as I fell back against my bed. "Nothing that has happened to you, or to me, at that hands of that son-of-a-bitch, is your fault. Or mine. Understand?"

A tear trickled down her face.

"Hey, don't cry." I reached for her with my good hand. She wrapped her tiny fingers around mine. Giving her hand a tug, Esme sat on the side of my bed. "If taking every hit meant he couldn't get to you, I'd do it again and again and again."

"Why?" she cried. "Why for me? I'm nobody."

"You are not a nobody," I argued. "You're my family."

Esme's eyes widened. "Family?"

I nodded. "I don't have a lot of family, people I can count on when things get real, you know?"

Esme's head barely moved.

"I guess, I think of you as one of those people," I added, feeling foolish for putting myself on the line.

"I, um, I . . ." Esme cleared her throat and looked away. "I guess I'm cool with that."

"Well, as long as you're cool with it," I snickered.

"Shut up," she muttered, turning back toward me. "Seriously, Edward. I haven't thanked you for . . . Well, giving a shit about me. So . . . Thanks."

"You're welcome."

—SMTS—

"Knock, knock," The door to my room opened as Renee stuck her head in. "Am I interrupting?"

"Um," Bella paused and looked back at me, waiting for me to tell her whether it was okay or not. Esme and Carlisle left an hour ago, and we were impatiently waiting for Dr. Gerandy, who still hadn't come by my room. I shrugged my shoulders. Bella smiled as she turned back to her mother. "No, come on in."

Renee stepped into the room, letting the door close behind her. Placing her purse on the counter next to the sink, she turned toward Bella, opening her arms. Bella shifted her eyes to me before stepping into her mother's embrace. The decision to let her mother in hadn't been an easy one, I knew.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Renee murmured before leaning away from Bella, bringing her hands up to her face. A ping of jealousy hit me; Bella had a second chance at a relationship with her mother. What must it be like to have a mother who loves you?

"How are you feeling, Edward?" Renee asked.

I tried to smile, but I knew it came off wrong. "I'm good. Just ready to go home."

Renee pressed her lips together before she nodded. "Have you given any thought about what you're going to do when you're released? I mean, you can't really manage on your own, can you?"

"Yeah, I don't know," I muttered, shifting my eyes away from her.

Renee hesitated before saying, "I've . . . I've been doing some thinking."

"What about?" Bella asked, rushing around to the other side of the bed, grabbing my good hand in hers.

"Well . . ." She sighed. "I don't want to overstep my bounds, but you're important to my daughter. And because of that, you're important to me."

Tears flooded my eyes and I felt my lips trembling.

"Oh, God, this isn't going the way I wanted it to," she mumbled before taking a deep breath. "I was thinking, if you agree, that . . . Well, I've been looking at some apartments."

"But I already have an apartment."

"Yes, I know, but these are first floor apartments, with top notch security," Renee rambled, shifting her eyes up to Bella. "Two bedrooms, if that helps."

"You think he and I should live together?" Bella asked, her attention flickering down to me and then back at her mother.

"I'm just saying they have some very nice two bedroom places," Renee said, smiling. "For a minute, I considered inviting you and Edward to stay with me and Charlie, but I don't think you're ready for that." Renee looked down at me. "Either of you."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "You don't know me. Not really."

"You're right; I don't," she admitted. "But I know you love my daughter. And I know you refused to tell that man where your friend was, because she was in danger, right?"

I nodded.

"I've got time to learn the rest. Now, if I'm overstepping my bounds, I'm sorry. I just worry about you."

"You . . . you do?" I whimpered, unable to keep the tears from falling. I hated that my vulnerability was showing.

Renee smiled. "I do. Will you let me rent a place for the two of you? At least until you get back on your feet?"

"I'd never be able to repay you," I muttered.

"You don't have to," she argued. "You won't owe me anything, Edward. Ever."

Sighing, I lobbed my head to the side, looking at Bella. "What should I do?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I mean, she's right: neither of our apartments are exactly easy access at the moment."

"You don't have to decide anything today," Renee said. "Just think about it. Once Dr. Gerandy releases you, you'll have to make a decision. No hard feelings either way."

Renee looked down at her watch — an expensive, gold and diamond watch. "I've got to run. Charlie's being released from the rehabilitation center today, and we have an appointment with a home health nurse."

"The Old Man's okay?" Bella asked, nervously. She hadn't seen her father in weeks, the hurt and anger from being lied to was deep.

"He's getting there. He misses you. Asks about you every day. Might be nice if you stopped by sometime."

"Yeah, maybe," Bella mumbled.

"Okay, well, call me if you need anything." Renee reached across my bed, grabbing Bella's hand before looking down at me. "You, too. Anything."

"Thanks," I whispered.

Renee smiled before she turned, grabbed her purse, and walked out, closing the door behind her.

I blew out a deep breath before looking up at Bella, who was staring at her feet. "You okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" she asked.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" I countered. "Your mom just offered to support me financially while I recover."

"Yeah." Bella bit her lip as she shifted nervously. "Are you going to accept?"

"I . . ." I blew out a deep breath. "I don't know. Do you think I should?"

"Honestly?" she asked.

I nodded.

Bella settled on the side of my bed, wrapping her fingers around my hand. "I know you won't want to owe her. I don't either, but neither of our apartments are convenient while you recover. A first-floor apartment is a lot easier than a two-story walk up."

"True," I admitted.

"I don't think she'll expect anything from you," she said, and I shifted my eyes to her. "That's what you're worried about, right?"

I pressed my lips together as I nodded. "People aren't that generous. And she's already paying for all this," I added, waving my hand around the room. "I'm not for sale."

"I know you're not," Bella insisted. "Is that what you think I did? I sold you?"

"No. No, of course not!" I argued, horror filling me. "I know why you did what you did. I just . . . I've worked so hard not to need anyone, you know?"

"I do," she replied, but there was something in her voice that set me on edge, a tenor of doubt that I didn't like.

I tightened my fingers around hers, pulling on them so she'd look up at me. Tears glistened in her eyes, tears that burned my soul for upsetting her. Just as I was about to apologize, Bella began to sob.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "You were hurt, and you needed surgery. The hospital wouldn't schedule it without a guarantee that you'd be able to pay. I didn't know what to do. I panicked, and —"

"Stop," I all but yelled. Bella flinched and scooted off my bed, her hand leaving mine.

The door to my room opened before I could apologize. My shoulders tensed as Dr. Gerandy lead the two police officer's I'd spoken almost a week ago inside. Bella and I shared a look before I said, "Did you catch him?"

The cops shifted their eyes from me to Bella and back.

"Liam O'Connor was apprehended an hour ago outside of an apartment building on third avenue," one of the said.

"Th . . . third?" Bella whispered, horror filling her eyes.

The cop nodded. "We believe he was looking for you."

"Oh," she whimpered, her arms wrapping around her torso the way they always did when she struggled to keep from losing control.

"When we booked him, we found your picture, address, telephone number," the second cop stated.

"But you've caught him, right?" I asked. "He can't . . . he can't get to her."

"For now," he said. "But if he makes bail . . ."

I blew out a deep breath nodded. People like him, people with connections, there wasn't any stopping them. We weren't safe yet. Maybe, we never would be.

**Thank you for all the reviews. Things are just heating up.**


	46. Chapter 46

BPOV

Dr. Gerandy released Edward two days later with instructions to take it easy and be at the hospital for his physical therapy every morning at ten. Typically, he told us, the physical therapist would come to our apartment and work with him here, but neither Edward nor I felt comfortable with a stranger being inside our apartment. Dr. Gerandy seemed to understand and arranged for us to meet at the hospital. I was grateful. We'd already reached our limit and leapt well over the line of comfort.

Edward and I reluctantly accepted Renee's offer to rent us an apartment. I still wasn't sure we should live together, but Edward wouldn't be able to manage stairs and after finding out that Liam O'Conner had been arrested outside my apartment building, I wasn't itching to return to my place, either. He had been denied bail, but that hadn't made either of us feel any better.

"Bella!" Edward yelled from his bedroom.

Startled, I scrambled out of my bed and rushed across the hall, finding him thrashing in bed. A look of terror filled his face and my heart clinched in my chest. "Edward, baby, it's okay."

I slowly slid onto the edge of the bed, grabbing hold of his arms as he waved them in front of him. His eyes snapped opened and he looked directly at me. For a moment, I wondered if he'd really seen me, or if I was just one more person who hurt him.

"Edward," I said, quietly.

"Bella," he whimpered. "You were gone."

"No," I insisted. "I'm right here."

"I . . ." Edward pulled his arms out from my grip and pushed himself up so that he was leaning against the headboard. His hand came down to rest on the brace on his knee. Three weeks we'd been living in the small two bedroom apartment and for three weeks, he'd woken each night because in his mind, I was gone. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I told him shifting so that I was seated next to him. "Are you okay now?"

Edward shrugged his shoulders. "Same as always, I guess. Kind of nervous about today."

"Me, too." And I was.

Today would be the first time Edward would return to Murphy's Law since he was attacked. From what Emmett, Alice, and Esme tell us, the new owners had gutted the place. They refused to give too many details, just that they liked it. Edward, however, was nervous that it would be too different, or maybe too much the same. I wasn't sure which, just that he was nervous.

"You don't have to go back there," I suggested. "There are other bars. Or, you know, the casinos are always hiring."

Edward snorted. "Like any place is going to hire me with a bum leg."

I hummed, knowing he was right. He had at least another three to four weeks before Dr. Gerandy would release him so he could work again, which mean another three to four weeks relying on me, more like Renee, to support him. I hated that I'd put him in this position and worried that the day would come when I found myself alone because of it.

"I'm hungry," Edward announced, out of the blue. He tilted his head to the side, looking at the clock. "Is six a.m. too early for pizza?"

"Ew, yes," I gagged and climbed off the bed.

I grabbed Edward's cane, and helped him out of bed. While the breaks in his arm were healing much faster than expected, he still couldn't put a lot of weight on it, so instead of crutches, he used a cane. Once he was steady on his feet, Edward wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in for a short kiss.

"What was that for?" I asked, breathless as always after he kissed me.

"Do I need a reason to kiss you?"

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks warm.

"Come on. I'm starving," he laughed, gripping his cane.

I followed Edward into the kitchen. While he settled at the table, I pulled out some eggs, mushrooms, onions, ham, and cheese. Then, while cooking the omelets, I made a pot of coffee. After just a few minutes, the kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of brewed coffee and omelets.

"Do we still have some cantaloupe?" Edward asked.

"No," I said, turning to face him. "I had the last of it before I went to bed. Sorry."

"It's fine," he said, smiling.

I plated our omelets and placed them on the small table. Then, turning to the coffee pot, I filled each of our cups and carried them to the table. Edward hadn't made a move toward his plate, something he always did. He said waiting until I was seated was important to him. I'd tried telling him that it was okay to go ahead and eat, but he refused. Once I was settled, he picked up his fork and cut off a big chunk, moaning as he ate.

The sounds he made when he ate my food had me squirming. We hadn't as much as kissed in weeks, but I found myself wanting more. That scared me. I'd never felt such a need to be touched by a man.

"Do you like them?" I asked.

"Duh," Edward laughed, smiling. Though he woke up with fear in his eyes, he managed to hide just how scared he was. He laughed and smiled, joked and teased. I envied his ability to wear a mask of normalcy. "Everything you make is good."

"Thank you."

We ate in silence for several minutes. When Edward had finished his, I slid part of my omelet onto his plate, ignoring the glare. Yes, I didn't eat as much as he liked, but I wasn't hungry. I stood to refill our coffee when he grabbed my hand, pulling up next to him. His arm snaked around my waist, his fingers curving around my hip.

"You know, we haven't talked about getting married," he said. "Don't you think we should?"

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth as I nodded.

"So?" he prompted. "Do you have a date in mind?"

"I . . ." I shook my head as I pulled away from him and grabbed the coffee pot. I filled both our cups before sitting back in my chair. "I haven't given it a lot of thought, to be honest."

That wasn't what he wanted to hear based on the frown that tugged on his lips.

"I'm sorry. I just . . ." Pausing, I tried to organize my thoughts. "I love you more than anything in this world, Edward. You've given me so much, and the last thing I want is to hurt you again."

"You think if we get married, you'll hurt me?"

I nodded.

"Jesus fuck, Bella, that's bullshit," he said, reaching across the table for my hand, but I pulled it back, needing the clarity I never got when he touched me. "Talk to me."

"I . . ." I blew out a heavy breath. "Edward, I'm scared that . . . that I won't be a good wife. What if you marry me and then realize that I'm not worth all the trouble?"

"That won't happen."

"You don't know that," I exclaimed, waving a hand in the air. "What if I'm not a good lover?"

"Sex? That's what you're worried about?" he asked with wide eyes.

Feeling my cheeks warm, I shrugged my shoulders. "A little bit. You're not?"

"No," he admitted. "I don't think anything with you could ever be bad, Bella."

"I don't know what to do," I mumbled, feeling like an idiot for even talking about this. "I mean, I always just . . . you know, laid there while he did what he wanted."

"We'll learn together," Edward said, quietly.

"Okay," I whispered.

"Hey, look at me."

I shifted my eyes up to his.

"There's no pressure here. We can wait a year or two or ten to get married. I just . . . I need to know that you're just as committed to me as I am to you."

"Of course I am!" I insisted. "Edward, everything is just so . . . messy right now. A few months ago, I just existed. I worked and went home. That's all I did. But now, with you, I find myself looking forward to living."

"I make you feel alive?"

I nodded. "It scares me, but when I'm with you, I don't feel like I'm broken."

Edward smiled and looked away. "You make me feel like that, too."

"Yeah?"

This time Edward nodded, his eyes moving back to meet mine. "I love you, Bella. I never thought I'd love anyone like I do you. I want to hold you in my arms, as my wife. I want . . . I need to know that you're always going to be by my side."

"You need a ceremony for that?" I asked, frowning. "I don't always make you feel safe?"

"Of course you do," he insisted a little rather too quickly. "It's more that I want to start over with you. We'll go from Edward and Bella, two fucked up, battered, and broken assholes, to Edward and Bella, husband and wife, each other's everything. I'm just ready for that, I guess."

I smiled and placed my hand back on his. "Me too. Just give me a chance to catch my breath and then we can plan a small — like very small — wedding. Okay?"

Edward grinned and nodded. "All I need is you. I don't care about anything else."

"When you say that, I almost believe that I'm enough," I whimpered, but I'm not sure he actually heard me.

—SMTS—

Just after noon, Edward and I were standing in front of Murphy's Law. Therapy had been hard and he found himself hurting more than usual, but still insisted on coming back to the bar. Other than clearing the trash off the sidewalks and power spraying the front of the building, it didn't seem like much had changed. I waited for Edward to take the first step toward the doors, knowing this moment was a lot for him to take on. This bar had been a huge part of his life, and in one afternoon, a crazy madman had almost taken it away. A part of me wanted to beg him not to come back, but the other part understood why he needed to face his fears. We already had enough demons to fight without adding more to the queue.

"Here goes nothing," Edward muttered under his breath as he limped forward. I pulled the door open and held it so he could get inside.

To say the new owners had given the place a massive upheaval was an understatement. The hardwood floors had been stripped and refinished. There was a new bar, new tables, chairs, stools. All of the lighting had been updated with stained-glass, and the walls were covered in various street signs, vintage advertisements, and neon signs. Behind the bar were half a dozen glass shelves that were filled to the brim with every type of alcohol made.

Seated at the bar were Emmett, Esme, Alice, Ben, Renee, and Marcus, though I wasn't sure why my mother and brother were here.

"So, what do you think?" Renee asked, standing up and waving her hand around the place. "Nice, right?"

Edward nodded. "It's incredible."

"Thank God!" Renee laughed. "I was afraid you wouldn't like it. I wanted to keep the same feel, just spruce it up a bit."

"What are you talking about?" Edward asked, his eyes wide and I could see the whites of his knuckles from how tight he's gripping his cane. "You . . . you bought the bar?"

Renee smiled and nodded. "For you."

"For me?" Edward echoed. "What do you mean?"

"I bought this place for you," she said with pride. "Had the deed transferred to your name this morning."

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Edward snarled, causing her to shrink back against the bar. "I'm not fucking for sale!"

"I never said you were!" Renee wailed, falling into Marcus's arms.

"Dude, calm down," Marcus ordered.

"Fuck you, you little bastard. You don't own me!" Edward snapped, and I could sense the panic rising up inside him. It had been one thing to allow my mother to rent us an apartment, knowing that she was only concerned about our safety, but buying Edward a bar? I could understand why he was so angry. Nobody was that generous without expecting payment in return.

"What did I do wrong?" Renee fretted, placing her hand on her chest. "I don't understand."

"I do," I said, moving so that I was standing in front of Edward. I placed my hands on either side of his face. "You need to calm down before you hurt yourself."

"I'm not for sell," he whispered just loud enough for me to hear him.

"No, you're not." Leaning up, I pressed my lips against his before I turned and faced my mother. "You can't just buy this place and give it to him without expecting payment of some kind."

"Yes, I can," she insisted. "Look, I'm not trying to overstep here. I just want to help make your lives a bit easier."

"Why, though? You don't know me," Edward argued. "You're paying my hospital bill, for my physical therapy, for our apartment, and now you've bought me this bar. Why are you doing all this?"

"Because I can," she said, simply. "When I was a little girl, my mother told me it was important to give as much as I received. You see, I was lucky. I was born in a world of privilege, but my parents taught me that money didn't make me better than anyone. When Charlie and I married, we made an agreement that we'd teach our children the same. And we tried."

Renee paused, wiping the tears off her face. "I look at you and I see this amazing young man, who has pulled himself up from the deepest parts of hell and declared to the world that you need anyone. Except for my daughter, anyway." She smiled. "I stopped by here the day after your attack. I guess I needed to see for myself where you'd been hurt. The previous owner was here with a contractor. They were talking about tearing the place down. He wanted to build a strip club instead. I just . . . I don't know, I couldn't let this place be turned into something like that. So I bought it."

"But why?" Bella asked. "Why would you care if they turned this place into a strip club? Vegas is full of shitholes like that."

"Because this place was important to Edward," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"What makes you think that?" Edward questioned.

Renee shifted her eyes to Emmett, Esme, Alice, and Ben before she replied. "When my daughter needed a safe place to meet us about the DNA test, you chose here. And when we met, I saw the pride you have for the place. It was a dump, sure, but it was yours. So, I bought it for you. Brought it up to code. It was not in great shape, and thought, I'd spruce it up a bit."

Renee paused and pushed away from the bar, ignoring the way Marcus reached for her. She stopped in front of Edward and slowly lifted her arm up so that her hand rested on the side of his face. I could see him shaking, feel the panic as it radiated off him.

"You're worth taking the chance on, Edward. You matter and you're loved. You don't owe me, or Charlie, or Marcus, or anyone, anything. Not now, not ever."

"Yeah?" Edward whimpered, his lips trembling as tears flooded his eyes.

"I promise." She smiled. "Now, you'll have to be responsible for the property taxes when they come due next year, along with any upkeep, and it'll be up to you to turn a profit, but I have all the confidence in your ability to be successful."

"I don't know what to say," he mumbled, using the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen. "Thank you. I'll do everything I can to make you proud."

"Just love my daughter and love yourself; that's all I need."

"I do love her," Edward said, quietly. "I always will."

"Yes, I know."

And I knew, without a doubt, that I was ready to marry Edward. I wanted to start fresh, but to do that, I needed to make my peace with the Old Man. It was time I put my big girl panties on and meet with Charlie Swan.


	47. Chapter 47

**EPOV**

"I think I'm going to be sick," Bella grumbled, leaning forward and burying her face in her hands.

I tried to keep from laughing — I honestly did — but she was so adorable that I couldn't keep the chuckles inside. Bella growled and turned her head to glare at me, but that only made me laugh harder. She was a kitten trying desperately to be a lion. God, how I loved her.

"So happy I amuse you, Edward," she hissed, rolling her eyes and leaning back against the bench we were sitting on. "The bus is late. We should just forget this and go home."

Bella stood to leave, but stopped when I wrapped my fingers around her wrist. Sighing, she shifted her eyes down to me. "I know what you're going to say."

"Then stop being such a chicken and sit down."

Huffing, she sat back next to me, crossing her legs at the knees. "I'm being stupid, aren't I? Why can't I just be normal for once?"

"You're not _not_ normal, Bella," I chided, hating the way she constantly put herself down. Not that I had anything to talk about. Half the time I felt like the biggest idiot in the fucking world. "You're just nervous."

"Nervous," she scoffed with a shake of her head. She twisted her hand so that our fingers were tangled together. I could feel her trembling. "I'm not nervous, Edward. I'm fucking terrified."

"Why?" I asked, even though I understood. "You've talked to the Old Man a million times."

"Not like this," she said, her voice breaking as she looked at me. Tears filled her eyes, though she did her best to keep them from falling. "He was always just the cranky old bastard at table ten. But now, he's my father, and I don't know. I'm just scared. I have to talk to him. I need to, but I don't know," she whimpered.

"Then let's go home," I offered, but didn't stand.

I knew she wouldn't actually go home. She'd been battling her nerves for the last two weeks, ever since her mother gave me a bar. I still couldn't believe that Renee had bought Murphy's Law for me, but she had. I still couldn't work, not behind the bar, at least. But I'd spent the last two weeks familiarizing myself with the books, with code laws, and permit requirements. I had no idea what any of it meant, but it was important, so I tried to learn what I could.

"Don't be an ass," Bella groused with a roll of her eyes. "We can't tell everyone that we're getting married until I sit down with him, and I really want to tell my mom."

"Okay," I said, smiling. Two weeks ago, Bella would have balked at the mere mention of a wedding, and now, she was almost excited.

Bella's eyes widened as the bus turned the corner and came to a stop in front of us. Normally, we'd take my bike, but seeing as my knee was still fucked up, I couldn't exactly ride and Bella didn't know how to drive a motorcycle, so it as either a bus or a cab and cabs cost too much, according to Bella.

"Okay, I can do this," she murmured, mostly to herself, but she tightened her grip on my hand as she stood up.

I limped behind her, hating that my knee was such a hindrance. I had more mobility than I had two weeks ago, but there was still a lot of pain and tightness. Dr. Gerandy assured me that that was normal, but I hated being such a gimp. I wanted to be the man Bella deserved — a strong man.

—SMTS—

Half an hour later, Bella and I were standing outside of a large, posh house in Summerlin, one of the wealthiest parts of the city. Somehow, it didn't surprise me that Renee and the Old Man had bought a house here. They lived in a world of privilege.

"Jesus fuck, this is insane," Bella muttered under breath as we started up the circle drive to the front door, which turned out to be a set of double doors. Only rich fucks had double doors, right? "We ain't in Vegas anymore, Edward."

"No, shit," I quipped, leaning around Bella and pushing the doorbell.

"Why'd you do that?" she hissed as the loud chime rang throughout the air.

"Because that's what normal people do when they want to be invited inside," I teased.

"We ain't normal," she snarked, but smiled.

"No, we're not."

The doors were pulled open and we found ourselves face to face with Marcus, who had an unusually big smile on his face. Though he had been kind to me over the last several weeks, I still found myself unable to trust him. He'd been cruel to Bella, accused her of lying, of only wanting money. He may have made his peace with her, but he still had a long way to go with me.

"Hey, wasn't sure you'd actually come," he said, leaning against the doorway. His eyes shifted from me to Bella. "You okay?"

Bella sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. "But I'm here."

"He's really excited that you're willing to talk with him," Marcus said, quietly. "I know what he did was horrible, and I can't say that I've fully forgiven him for leaving you, leaving me and Mom, giving up on us like he did, but well, I mean, if he hadn't, we may never have found you, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Bella murmured.

"Wow, this got heavy fast." Marcus pushed off himself off the doorframe and gestured for us to enter the house, which we did. The inside was nearly empty. In the living room to the left of the entry room, there were a couple of small couches, but nothing else. In the sitting room to the right, there was nothing. "We're still trying to get our stuff from Forks shipped down. Supposed to be here in a couple of days, or at least that's what they told us."

"So, you're not going back there?" Bella asked.

Marcus stopped in the middle of the entry room and turned to Bella. "Forks holds too many bad memories for us, I think. And Dad's here, you're here, so it makes sense that Mom would want to be here, too. She might have to travel back and forth some for the business, but she wants to be close to you."

Bella bit her lip and nodded.

"And so do I," he added and when Bella looked up at him, he said, "I'm transferring to UNLV. I can finish my degree here."

"Are you sure you want to?"

"I am," he said, smiling.

Marcus turned and led us down a hallway to a room in the back of the house. It was huge with lots of windows. Renee and Charlie were sitting on a black, leather couch. While he looked better than he had in the weeks since we'd seen him, there was still a droop on the left side of his face, but his eyes were brighter than before, full of hope. I just prayed it wasn't going to hurt Bella. She needed to understand, needed to forgive him, but could she? He had let her suffer for years on her own and that was something I wasn't sure I'd ever forgive him for.

"Hey," Renee said, scrambling to her feet and rushing over to Bella. She wrapped her in a warm hug before leaning back and bringing her hands up to her face. "Breathe, Bella."

Bella laughed under her breath as she exhaled a gust of air. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." Renee smiled and shifted her attention to me. "Hello, Edward. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I lied. Though I wanted to be strong for Bella, inside I was freaking out.

It was clear based on the look on Renee's face that she didn't believe me, but she didn't say anything as she gestured for us to take a seat on the couch next to where Charlie had been waiting. As Bella and I sat, I saw Charlie's hand twitch, and I knew he wanted his chance to hug his daughter, to feel her hand in his, but he had a long way to go to get that honor.

"Would either of you like some coffee or tea?" Renee asked, sitting next to Charlie, but gesturing to the pitchers on the coffee table. "I also have lemonade, and I think there might be a soda or two in the kitchen. I'm really not sure."

"We're fine," Bella murmured, her hands curling into a fist as Marcus sat next to his mother. She sighed and shifted her attention to the Charlie. "Hey, Old Man."

He shook his head. "Charlie. Call me Charlie or Dad."

"Can't," Bella said, quietly. "You're not my father again, not yet at least."

Pain spread across Charlie's face, but he didn't argue with her.

"I'm not sure where to start," Bella admitted. "I've had this conversation inside my head so many times over the years. Of course, before a few months ago, it was mostly a bunch of curse words about how you could go to Hell for not wanting me. Now that I know the truth, I don't know what to say."

"Neither do we, do we, Charlie?" Renee asked, placing her hand on top of his as she shifted so that she was facing her husband.

"No," he admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?" Bella asked, almost begging for an answer that made sense. "You saw me every day, Old Man. Every single day, and you never even hinted that you knew me."

"I almost did. Every time I came in, I wanted to tell you," he confessed. "I wanted nothing more than to wrap you in my arms, to hold you and make everything better for you."

"Then why didn't you?" Bella whimpered. "You saw how much I hurt, didn't you?"

Charlie nodded, a tear sliding down the left side of his face. He made no attempt to wipe it away, though.

"Did you just not want me anymore?" The question was so soft, I almost didn't hear her, but based on the way Renee and Charlie gasped, they heard her clearly.

"Of course we wanted you," Renee insisted. "Didn't we, honey?"

Charlie's head bobbed up and down. "You weren't ready for us, though."

"What does that even mean?" Bella demanded.

"Being a part of this family has always come with a certain amount of social pressure. My father, your grandfather, had high expectations for me, for my family. We had to be perfect and I tried. I tried to be a good son to him while being a good father to you and Marcus. When you were taken, my father blamed me."

This time Bella gasped. "He did?"

Charlie nodded.

"I don't really remember him."

"You wouldn't, he wasn't around much. Didn't like children. Said they were too noisy, too messy. He didn't approve of your artwork, said we needed to encourage you to focus more on your school work. I did my best to keep you and Marcus away from him, away from his negativity. I wanted you to be your own people. And then one day, you were gone. Just gone without a trace and . . ." Charlie blew out a thick breath as he struggled to keep his emotions from consuming him. "I was supposed to protect you, and I didn't. I hated myself for not being there when you needed me."

"You blamed yourself for what I went through?"

Charlie nodded. "You were my little Isabella, my baby girl."

"But when Sam found me, when I was . . . free, or safe, or whatever you want to call it, why didn't you come to me? Why did you stay away?" Bella cried.

"When you first went missing, I believed that the police, or the FBI, someone would find you. People don't just disappear, but you did. The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, and before I knew it, years had gone by. The FBI grew bored with your case after a few months, the police were convinced you were dead, but I knew you weren't. During a business trip here, I met Sam, saw his work first hand, and I knew if anyone was going to find you, it would be him."

"Why him?" Bella asked.

"I'd been looking into purchasing an advertising firm that was struggling to stay afloat. They'd hired Sam to look into their security practices because their numbers weren't adding up right. They were losing more money than they spent. He found out one of the junior partners had been stealing from the company. I don't know why, but he just felt like the right man for the job. So, I requested a meeting, made my pitch. I knew he wasn't any more confident than the police were that he'd be able to find you, but I had to do something. I needed to know, one way or another."

"And you never left Vegas."

It wasn't a question, more of a statement, but Charlie nodded. "I couldn't leave here, not until Sam found you."

Bella shifted her attention from Charlie to Marcus and Renee, both of whom were listening quietly as he attempted to explain his motives. "Do you regret leaving them?"

Charlie's head shifted up and down. "Every single day."

"Why?" Bella asked. "Why didn't you tell them about hiring Sam?"

"I don't know. We'd had so many girls show up, claiming to be you. Every time, I saw your mom crumble from the pain of losing you all over again. Marcus — he was angry. All the time."

"Were you?" Bella asked her brother.

"I was," Marcus admitted. "I was an angry little shit, who grew up in the shadow of a sister that was always more important."

"You weren't more important than Bella," Renee argued.

"Every birthday, every holiday, every first day of school — it was always about Isabella missing out, Isabella would have been ten, eleven, twelve. And I get it — I do, because I missed the hell out of her." Marcus paused. "Out of you, Bella, but I lived in your shadow for a long time, and I didn't like it."

"I'm sure you didn't," Bella murmured, but before she could say anything else, her cell rang. She dug it out of her pocket, sighing when she saw Sam's name and number flash across the screen. Standing up, she muttered, "It's work; I've gotta take this," before rushing out of the room, leaving me alone with her parents and brother.

I shifted my eyes back to them, all three of whom were watching me with neutral expressions. Placing my hand on my injured knee, I tried to figure out what to say, something witty and clever, but came up with nothing.

"What's your name?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, um," I stammered, realizing that Bella had never actually introduced me to him. "Edward."

"Got a last name, Edward?"

"Masen," I said, clearing my throat.

He nodded. "You were with her at the hospital, right?"

"Yes, sir."

His lips curved into a smile, or half a smile seeing as his left side didn't do much. "You love her."

Again, it wasn't a question, but I found myself saying, "Very much."

"She loves you, too."

Bella rushed back into the room, looking irritated. "Sorry. Sam can't find his ass with both hands, I swear."

Charlie chuckled while Renee and Marcus merely grinned.

Bella sat back next to me, her hand coming to rest on top of mine. "I still don't understand why you didn't come to me in Arizona. You knew where I was, you saw what I had to do to live."

The smile fell off Charlie's face. "When Sam reported back to me, he told me it was bad, that you'd . . . Well, that it was bad. He said you'd gone through a lot, and I thought I understood what he meant, but when I saw you, when I watched you . . ." Charlie shook his head. "You were so broken, so fragile. You wouldn't let anyone near you, let anyone help you. You never even told the police who you were."

"You didn't?" Renee asked, shifting her attention from her husband to Bella, who barely shook her head. "Why not?"

"Because I wasn't Isabella Swan anymore," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Isabella Swan was loved by her parents, adored by her brother, but they'd given her away to a monster, who reminded her every fucking day that she owed him." Bella paused, blowing out a heavy breath. "Sorry, I curse when I'm stressed."

"We don't care about that, do we, Charlie?"

"No," he said. "But you really believed him? When he told you that we didn't want you anymore?"

"I did," Bella whimpered, her lips trembling. "I was just a little girl who didn't know better, and he . . ."

"We would have never given you away."

"But you did, Old Man," she argued, wincing when she saw him flinch. "Three years. For three years, you watched me suffer in silence. You manipulated my life from a distance, arranging for jobs and apartments. You'd come into the diner and, Goddamn it, you were a mean son-of-a-bitch. Never once in all that time, did you tell me who you were. Never. Why? Why would do that to me?"

"I thought you weren't ready for us," he said, frowning. "I know that sounds like a lame excuse, but you needed time. Time to . . . I don't know . . . find out who you were. Yeah, I watched you and I might have used my influence to nudge you in the right direction, but you needed to learn to trust yourself."

"But I needed you, Old man," Bella cried, bringing her hand up to her mouth. "You were the only part of my day when I didn't feel like I breaking apart, even when you'd tell me to leave you alone. You were my friend."

"I still am," he said, once again his hand twitched like he wanted to touch her. "But now, I can be your father, too."

"You want to be my father?" Bella wept and Charlie nodded frantically. "Then promise that you won't lie to me again."

"I promise," Charlie said immediately.

"And promise that you'll never leave Renee and Marcus again."

Charlie grabbed Renee's hand and looked from her to Marcus, whose chin was wobbling. "Never again."

"And promise . . ." Bella paused, drawing the attention of her father, mother, and brother to her. "Promise that in a few months, when Edward and I get married, you'll walk me down the aisle . . . as my father."

Charlie sucked in a ragged breath as he and Renee gasped. Pushing himself to his feet, he reached for Bella with his right hand. She accepted it and stood, leaning her body against his as they hugged for the first time.

"I promise, Bella. I promise."


	48. Chapter 48

**BPOV**

Spreadsheets were going to be the death of me. I hated them and they hated me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get everything to add up correctly. Huffing in frustration, I leaned back in my desk chair and pulled my knees up so that my feet rested on the edge of my chair. My eyes flittered toward the clock and I groaned. Just after ten in the morning. I'd only been at work for two hours but it felt more like twelve.

"Why did I decide to keep this job?" I muttered to myself.

Nobody answered, of course. Sam, Jake, and Seth were meeting with a potential new client. Jasper, James, and Tyler had infiltrated Mike's company to see if they could figure out who had been stealing from him, so that left me alone. I hated it, but I knew I couldn't continue to work from home, either. Edward and I had to move on with our lives if we wanted a future together.

I smiled as I thought about that future. Edward and I were getting married. Renee and Charlie had been thrilled to learn of our engagement, and even though I still felt awkward around them, it was getting easier to trust. Well, as much as I trusted anyone. The only other people to tell about our engagement were Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Rose, Jasper, and Alice, all of whom had agreed to meet with us after the bar closed. To be honest, I was terrified how they'd take the news. Especially Alice and Carlisle, but I needed Edward in my life and I was tired of waiting. He was everything to me.

I was startled when I heard someone pulling on the door to the office, my shoulders tensing as they always did. I had wanted to keep the place locked when I was here alone, but Sam told me we were open for business and had to keep them unlocked. I tried to be understanding, but I was still terrified.

After another moment, the door was pulled open and I sighed in relief when the Old Man limped into the room. He had been forced to use a cane, the left side of his body still struggling to catch up after his stroke. Or many strokes. He looked around the office, smiling when he saw me sitting behind the desk.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked.

I bit my lip and shook my head, letting my feet slip from the edge of the chair as I leaned toward the desk. "Sit. You look like shit."

The Old Man smiled and sat across from me, leaning his cane against his leg. "Not that easy to get around anymore."

I nodded, unsure how to respond.

"Where is everyone?"

"Um, out with clients," I told him. "But I would have thought you'd know that, seeing as you own this place."

Charlie frowned. "I wasn't sure Sam had told you about that yet."

"Why wouldn't he have? Don't you think I deserve to know everything you did while watching me?"

"Of course," he insisted.

I picked up my letter opener and began tapping it on top of my desk. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he insisted.

I took a deep breath. "Why'd you treat me like crap when you'd come into the diner? You kind of explained your reasons for not telling me who you were, but you were a real asshole."

Charlie frowned. "I didn't mean to be."

"I don't know how many times you got mad because your food wasn't there quick enough, or the coffee was cold."

"Not like I was wrong," he quipped. "That place was a shitbox."

I smiled. "But it was my shitbox."

"But you were better than that place. I guess, maybe, I thought if I was a big enough of a jerk you'd quit and then Sam could bring you on here."

"What made you think you had the right to dictate my life like that? I'm not a puppet, Old Man."

"No, I know," he groused. "I just wanted you to be safe, to be okay so that we could be a family again. But Sam kept telling me that you weren't ready, that you needed more time."

I sighed. "I don't like all these secrets, and I really don't like that you felt the need to hide me away." I paused and dropped the letter opener on my desk. "Were you embarrassed by me?"

"What?" he exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Of course not! Why would you think that?"

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to keep my emotions from taking over. "You didn't tell anyone about me."

"I didn't think you'd want people all up in your face. You saw how the press was after . . . after he was arrested."

"True," I admitted. That had been one of the reasons that I had snuck out of the hospital like I had. The press had been all over the place, wanting to interview me. I didn't need anyone to know about my parents sending me away, or me paying my debt with sex. Being a whore wasn't something I'd been proud of, even if I hadn't choose that life.

"Look, I can't undo the pain I've caused. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but I can see now, that I wasn't. I just wanted you to be okay again, to be my Isabella. It took a long time for me to realize that you'd never be her again."

"I don't want to be her, anyway," I said, blinking back my tears. "She was weak and scared. I've had to be strong and tough and self-reliant for a long time. I'm who I am now, and that's the best I can offer."

"You're pretty damn perfect, Bella," he said, with a smile. Scooting to the edge of his seat, he pulled a card out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. "I know you may not be interested, but I want you to have my numbers. You know, just . . . just in case you need something."

Nodding, I reached over and picked up the card, tracing a finger across the information. "So you're really staying in the city, then?"

"Yeah," he said. "Now that your momma knows you're here, I couldn't take her away if I wanted to." He spared me a look. "Not that I want to."

I bit the inside of my lip. "Why'd you come by here, Old Man?"

"Oh, I . . ." He paused and chuckled under his breath. "I almost made up some lame excuse about needing to check on the business, but to be honest, I missed you. Needed to see that you were okay again, I guess."

"Is that why you always came into the diner? You wanted to make sure I was still okay?"

Charlie nodded.

"That's . . . kind of sweet, I guess, in a weird, stalker kind of way."

"I wish I could go back and change everything that happened to you," Charlie confessed.

"You and me both, Old Man," I murmured under my breath.

"Well, I should let you get back to work. If I'm gone too much longer, Renee's going to worry. More than normal, anyway." Charlie braced himself on his cane as he stood. "Maybe I could come by again sometime?"

"Yeah, sure. You can distract me from spreadsheets."

"I hated those fuckers," he mumbled, limping toward the door. "Never could get them to come out right."

"Me either," I laughed. "See ya around, Old Man."

Charlie waved before letting himself out. I blew out a heavy breath and turned my attention back to the computer, back to my work, but my father stayed on my mind as I tried to work. He was making an effort to be a part of my life. And though it was hard for me to trust him, I was trying.

—SMTS—

"You're going to be late."

I groaned from behind my desk, my eyes shifting to Jasper, who stood next to the doorway.

"Aren't you done yet?" he asked with a laugh.

"Almost," I said, saving the last of the spreadsheets into the correct folder and closing all of them out. Clocking out for the day, I shut down my laptop and grabbed my bag from beneath the desk. "You didn't have to wait for me."

"I know."

Jasper had arrived back at the office about half an hour ago. He claimed he needed to leave a report for Sam, but I suspected that he didn't want me walking to the bar by myself. In his own way, he was trying to be noble. He'd really thrown himself into his new job with Sam, and I knew he loved the work. It was good for him. He seemed happier, which also had to do with Alice. The two were still working things out, but they were trying and that's all that mattered. Maybe someday, all of us would be a little less fucked up.

"Okay, I think I'm ready."

"About time," he teased, but walked over to the front door and pushed it open for me. "After you."

"Thanks," I murmured. I waited for him to follow me out before I locked the door. The two of us started in the direction of the bar. It was later than I'd planned to leave and the homeless, drunks, and addicts were already starting to fill the streets, which had me on edge.

"You'll never guess who called me last night," Jasper said, placing his hand on my shoulder as we rushed across a busy street.

"Santa Clause," I snickered.

"No," he scoffed. "Mr. Call."

I groaned. "What'd that asshole want?"

"He asked me to come back to work at the diner. Said the place was going to hell without my leadership and offered me a three dollars an hour raise if I came back."

"And you said?"

"Told him to suck a dick," Jasper laughed. "He didn't much like that."

"Can't imagine why not."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't get to treat me like shit and expect me to come running because he doesn't want to man the place anymore. Besides, I'm good where I'm at."

"You really mean that, don't you?" I asked.

Jasper and I paused at an intersection and waited for the crosswalk to give us permission to cross the street.

"I do," he said. "I'm not going to stand here and lie and say that I've got all my shit together, because I don't. I still find myself scared and angry, expecting my father's wrath to come down on me, which is stupid because he's dead, but . . . Finding Alice again, I feel like I'm getting a second chance. Guess that sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"No," I told him as we rushed across the crosswalk. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. "You don't know my story and I don't really want to tell you, but I spent much of my life living in hell with a man who demanded more than I wanted to give him. He was cruel and used my fears against me, held me captive with my own insecurities about my family. I let my anger keep me from reaching out to them, choosing to believe the lies that had been used to keep me compliant. I now know that my family weren't the bad guys, that I was wanted and loved, and that's really hard for me to handle sometimes. I know you've been through hell, too, Jasper, but I see the way Alice looks at you. She needs you, and you need her."

"I can't live without her again, Bella," he said, quietly. "I love her."

"Good," I said, smiling. "Then the rest is gravy, whatever that means."

"It's an odd expression, isn't it?"

Agreeing with a laugh, Jasper and I started toward the bar again.

Edward was perched up in a bar stool, his cane resting against his leg when we walked in. He turned and smiled and I felt my heart beat faster. It was a silly reaction, of course, but being close to him gave me a sense of peace that I desperately needed.

"Hey," I murmured, ignoring the way Jasper chuckled as I walked over to Edward and draped my arm around his shoulder. "How's it going?"

"Eh, could be better, could be worse," he said, titling his head toward the half-filled bar. Ever since their re-opening, business had been steady, but not great. Too many people didn't like the clean atmosphere, they said. They just wanted a dump to get drunk in and this wasn't it. "How was work?"

"Boring," I scoffed. "Though, the Old Man came by for a bit."

"Yeah? Everything okay?"

I nodded. "We talked some more. It felt weird, but good at the same time."

"That's good." Edward nudged me toward the stool next to his. "Want a water?"

"Yes, please."

Edward motioned for Ben to grab me a bottle of water, which he did. Jasper settled on the other side of me and that's where we stayed for the rest of the night. Emmett manned the front door, Alice and Esme serviced the tables, and Ben managed the bar without Edward's help, which I knew was hard for him to allow. He still hadn't been released to go back to work, at least not physically, and it was harder than he expected.

Just before the bar closed at two in the morning, Carlisle and Rose arrived. Carlisle made a beeline for Esme, while Rose stayed next to the front door with Emmett, whose hands automatically came to rest on Rose's small, but noticeable baby bump. I bit my lip as I turned away from them, giving them their privacy. It was odd how I hadn't known these people more than a few months, yet they were my family. A part of it, anyway.

"Hey, you." Carlisle slipped his arms around me from behind, his lips finding the side of my head. "How's it going?"

"Oh, you know." I waved a hand in the air as I turned and faced my best friend. Where there were once circles under his eyes, he looked well-rested and happy. "Life is life, but it's good right now. I'd even branch out and say great."

"Great? Wow, Bella, that's a lot coming from you," he teased, looking over my shoulder at Edward. "Hey, man, how's the knee feeling?"

"Eh, it's there," he said. "Pains mostly gone. Just kind of tight."

"It probably always will be."

"Super," Edward groaned.

Carlisle laughed and turned his attention back to me. "Come dance with me."

"What? No!"

"Dance with me now, woman!"

Though he tried to sound demanding, Carlisle wasn't trying to force me. I rolled my eyes and allowed him to lead me out onto the small dance floor. He slid his arm around my waist while cupping my hand in his. The song coming out of the radio was some old country bit about shooting a man's horse, which had me grinning. It was cheesy and goofy, but I liked it.

"You've changed," Carlisle said, looking down at me.

"I have?" I asked.

He nodded. "You used to keep me at arm's length, always afraid to let me get too close. Hell, I did the same thing. It was easier, I guess."

"Was it?" I asked. "Living every day in fear? Always worrying about letting our masks fall and showing everyone how fucked up we were? I wasn't happy, Carlisle. I hated my life, hated being who I was."

"So did I."

"I loved you," I told him. "You were the only person I trusted with seventy percent of my heart."

"Until you met him."

I smiled. "And you met her."

"Yeah." Carlisle grinned as he looked over at Esme, who was leaning against the bar with Alice and Rose. "We're lucky, aren't we? To find them like this."

"We are." The song stopped and Carlisle looked back at me. "I still need you, though. You're still my best friend, who sometimes pisses me off with the asshole things you say."

Carlisle laughed. "And you're the bitchy woman, who keeps me from doing something really stupid."

"Always will be."

By the time everyone left and the bar had been cleaned up, it was almost three in the morning. I was exhausted, but excited to share our news with our family. Emmett, Rose, Jasper, and Alice gathered around the bar with Carlisle and Esme. Edward passed out beers to everyone but me and Rose, giving us each a bottle of water instead. I still longed for a drink, but knew I needed to get my head on straight before I could trust myself. Edward deserved better than that and I was determined to be the best wife I could be to him.

Clearing his throat, Edward wrapped his arm around me and lifted his bottle in the air. "I, um, I just want to say thanks for, you know, everything you've done for me, for us, over the last few weeks. I couldn't have survived the attack, the surgeries, the rehab, without all of you. I never thought the day would come when I had a family, and I do now, so . . . cheers!"

"Cheers," everyone murmured, titling their drinks into their mouths.

"Things have changed so much over the last few months," Alice said, smiling and for the first time, I didn't see the force behind it. She leaned against Jasper's shoulder. "For the better."

"For me, too," Rose said, placing a hand on her tummy.

"Same for me," Esme said, drawing everyone's attention to her. "For the first time in a year, I feel like I have my life back. Maybe I'll even start singing again."

I bit the inside of my lip as I watched my best friend holding the woman that he loved. Liam O'Connor had agreed to a plea deal, which meant that for the attack on Edward, he'd only serve three years, but then he'd have to go back to New York, where more than a dozen women had pressed charges against him for rape, battery, stalking, harassment, and blackmail. Liam O'Connor wouldn't be seeing the outside of a jail cell for a long, long time.

"I think we all feel like we've been given a second chance," Carlisle said, shifting his attention down to me. "Right, Bella?"

Nodding, I smiled. "We have."

And taking a deep breath, I turned and placed my hand in the middle of Edward's chest and said, "Which is why we wanted you all to be here tonight to celebrate with us."

"Celebrate?" Emmett asking, his eyebrow lifting in confusion.

"Bella and I are . . . Well, we're getting married."

If I'd been afraid that our friends wouldn't be happy for us, I wasn't anymore. Everyone surround us and hugged, cheered, congratulated us on this big step. It was a huge milestone for all of us. No longer were we weak and scared. We were brave. I'd lost my muse, but with Edward's love, I'd gained so much more. I'd gained a family.

**This is the last regular chapter. There are two epilogues, one of which will be posted tomorrow and one that will be posted as soon as I finish writing it. Thank you for all the love on this story. I love my misfits. **


	49. Epilogue one

The Dress

"Don't freak out. Don't freak out," I muttered to myself while staring out the window of mine and Edward's apartment. "Think I'm going to puke."

"Then don't go."

Sighing, I shifted my eyes to the man sprawled out on the sofa. A black brace was strapped to his right leg. More than six months had passed since I found Edward unconscious on the floor of Murphy's Law, yet his knee still wasn't completely healed. Carlisle said it probably never would be, not with the damage that had been done. But, we'd gotten used to it. Most days Edward could go without the brace, but there were times, after an extra busy night at the bar, that Edward had to pull it out of the closet. We didn't talk about it, though.

"I can't let her down," I murmured, shifting my attention back to the window. "She's so excited."

"That's an understatement." I heard Edward stand and moments later, felt his arms wrap around my torso. I tensed for a moment before allowing myself to relax. "Don't let her push you into something you're not comfortable with, though."

"I won't," I lied, knowing there was a good chance my defenses would be worn down.

From the moment Edward and I told Charlie and Renee about our engagement, my mother had been full of excitement over our upcoming nuptials. The dress, the flowers, the food. It was overwhelming, yet I found myself unable to beg her to stop. I didn't want all that hoopla, I just wanted to marry Edward, to have a normal life. If such a thing existed for people like us.

As the dark Mercedes pulled up in front of the building, I turned and faced Edward. "Wish me luck."

"Luck wished." Edward brushed his lips against mine before releasing his hold on me and stepping backward with a limp. "I love you."

"I love you more."

As I fled our apartment with my purse tucked under my arm, I heard Edward yell that wasn't possible. Except, there was no way he loved me more than I loved him. He was my everything, my only, my forever.

Renee was leaning against the side of the car when I walked out of the building. The smile that spread across her face was beautiful. She'd changed a lot over the last few months. Dialed it down, one would say. Sure she still drove a fancy car and had more diamonds that I could understand, but she wore jeans and tees instead of slacks and blouses. She never said so, but I suspected she wanted to fit in better with me and my crowd.

"Good morning," she cheered, opening her arms for a hug, just as she did every time she saw me.

Biting the inside of my lip, I walked over to her, letting her embrace me. It still scared me, allowing her to be so close, but I wanted my family back more. "Morning."

"Well," she said, bringing her hands to my face before letting them fall onto the sides of my arms. "Are you ready?"

"Um, I guess," I murmured, unsure how I felt. "Tell me again why I need to do this."

"Because finding the prefect dress is key to planning the prefect wedding."

I nodded, still gnawing on the inside of my lip.

Renee laughed softly. "Everything is going to be okay, Bella. I promise."

"I believe you," I said, lying for the second time that morning. I believed that she would do her best, but there were no promises when it came to life. A lesson I'd learned the hard way, I'm afraid.

"You don't, and that's okay. I'll just have to prove it to you."

Renee drove us through Las Vegas to the Broadacres Flea Market in the northern part of the city. I raised an eyebrow as we climbed out of the car, but didn't question her choice as we walked through the busy parking lot to the front doors. I was surprised to find Alice, Esme, and a very pregnant Rose waiting for us just inside.

"Sorry we're late," Renee said, placing her hand on my back. "I had trouble finding this place."

"We haven't been here too long," Alice said, smiling, though I could tell she wasn't completely comfortable being here, or being around my mother. Can't blame her seeing as her mother was a bitch, who let men rape her over and over.

"I'm confused," I grumbled. "What are we doing here? I thought you wanted to take me shopping for the prefect wedding dress?"

"I do, and I am," Renee said cheerfully. "Alice told me that there was a booth that had the most incredible vintage dresses, and well, I thought that might suit your tastes more than a fancy dress. They have a small changing room, and Alice said if you find something you like that needs some alterations, she can do it."

"Yeah?" I asked, shifting my attention to Alice, who shrugged and nodded.

"I might tinker with a needle and thread here and there. Keeps me busy, you know?"

Nodding, I understand. That was just one reason why I painted as much as I did. Busy work helped keep the darkness away. In theory, at least.

"So, should we go take a look?" Renee asked, tilting her head toward the inside of the massive flea market.

Yeah, okay," I mumbled, unsure I wanted to fight my way through the hundreds of people who were packed inside, but knew it was important to my mother. She was making an effort, and I needed to make one, as well.

Renee looped her arm in with mine and led the way inside, around the outside of the market to the very back corner. Inside the good sized booth, were hundreds of dresses hanging on metal racks. They were separated by colors, and patterns, but there were a dozen racks with white dresses alone.

"Oh, wow, that's a lot of dresses," I whispered under my breath.

"I'm sure we'll be able to eliminate a lot of them from the start," Renee said. "I'm guessing you don't want anything with lace or ruffles."

"Um, yeah," I scoffed. "I just want something simple."

"Well, let's get to looking," Renee said, smiling and gesturing toward the racks.

As we shifted through the dresses, I bit back several laughs. Some of the dresses were too ugly to describe. Puffy sleeves, ruffles and lace covering every inch. One even had feathers all over it. I didn't understand how anyone could have seen these dresses and thought, 'Oh, my God, I just have to have it.'

Feeling frustrated, I slipped between two of the racks, surprised to find Rose. She and Emmett hadn't been able to get married yet. Her 'husband' had contested the divorce, even though he was rotting away in a prison cell. Royce King had been sentenced to death in the murder of Bree Tanner, the sixteen year old girl he and his friends raped and murdered. He was never going to see the light of day again, yet he still had his hold on Rose. For now, at least. Renee and Charlie had hired the best divorce attorney for Rose, who promised that by law there was no way a judge would deny her petition. And since Royce's family had turned their backs to him, and in extension Rose, nobody cared that she possibly was carrying his baby. Emmett was prepared to adopt the baby as soon as he, or she, was born.

"You hiding, too?" I asked.

"No," she scoffed and when I raised an eyebrow, she grinned. "Okay, yes, but just because this is all a bit surreal, don't you think?"

I nodded as I shifted through more ghastly dresses. "Do you think she'd just let me and Edward be married by Elvis?"

"No," Rose murmured, pulling out a silky white dress. It was strapless and had a wide bow in the back, "What do you think?"

I cringed.

"For me," she laughed. "For after the baby, when Emmett and I can officially get married."

"Oh," I said, smiling weakly. "I think it'd look great on you."

"Maybe," she whispered, holding it against her. Her belly had popped weeks ago, yet she carried all her weight in front.

"Bella! Bella, come quick. I think I found it."

At the sound of Renee calling her name, I sighed, gave Rose a look, and hurried out from between the two racks. Renee was standing with Esme on one side and Alice on the other. A dress was being held up in front of her, a dress that reminded me of the kinds I'd seen in paintings as a young girl.

Soft beige, the dress was made out of satin, and there was a sheer layer of lace over it. Around the waist was a wide ribbon just a shade darker than the dress. In the middle of the ribbon were a cluster of different colored jewels, some red, gold, blues, and greens. The straps were made of a delicate lace that would cup each of my shoulders. My fingers trembled as I reached out and grazed the front of the dress.

"What do you think? Worth trying on?" Renee asked.

I could only nod as I took hold of the hanger and rushed into the small, canopy dressing room. I shed my jeans and T-shirt, laying them on a small wooden chair before carefully slipping the dress over my body. I held the front up with one hand while reaching the other out of the dressing room. The moment Renee's hand touched mine, I pulled her inside with me. My eyes filling with tears as I whispered, "Zip me up."

Renee smiled as she followed my request.

The dress was a little lose in the bust, but I knew it was the right dress. "What do you think?"

"I think you look beautiful, but I always think you look beautiful," she said softly. "Why don't we ask the others?"

I nodded and waited until Renee had stepped out before I followed. Rose gasped, one hand covering her mouth while the other caressed her belly. Alice brought both hands up in front of her as she smiled and nodded.

"Wow!" Esme murmured. "It's perfect."

"Yeah?" I asked, smoothing down the front a bit. "You really think so?"

"Oh yeah," Alice agreed. "Might need to take in the top a little, make it fit more snuggly, but it's really perfect for you, Bella."

"And you think Edward will like it?" I asked.

"Oh, honey," Renee laughed and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. "That boy would love you in a potato sack."

While I knew she was right, I found myself turning to face the mirror and imagining what it will be like to wear that dress while vowing to spend the rest of my life with the only man who has ever made me feel truly, madly, passionately loved.


End file.
